His Pretty Lips, Another's Lies SamDean NC17
by LadyCrystalCastalia
Summary: A painful encounter with a Shapeshifter leaves Sam shaken and starts taking a toll on the boys relationship. Unwilling to let the son of a btch destroy everything, Dean decides he and Sam need a break from saving people if they're going to save themselves
1. Ch1Lies Of Another PITrapped By A Lie

**Summary: **A painful encounter with a Shapeshifter leaves Sam shaken and starts taking a toll on the boys' relationship. Unwilling to let the son of a bitch destroy everything, Dean decides he and Sam need a break from saving people if they're going to save themselves.

**Title :** His Pretty Lips, Another's Lies

**Author :** Lady Crystal Castalia

**Pairing :** Sam/Dean

**Rating : **NC-17

**Spoiler : **Skin

**Words :** 36 300

**Genre: **Hurt/Comfort, Angst galore, Schmoop fiesta, Smut, First time

**Kinks:** Bottom!Sammy, Protective!Dean, Jealous!boys, Hurt!Sam, Food!Kink, Pretty!boys, Rimming and Use of endearments.

**Warnings:** Mild violence and mild non-con (not between the boys)

**CHAPTER 1: LIES OF ANOTHER**

**PART I - TRAPPED BY A LIE**

"But I love you, Sammy…"

The words fell from those generous lips like drops of honey and Sam Winchester froze. After a brutal fight, he finally had the creature in his grasp, the upper hand. But the words; they got to him. They made him blink, doubt and ever so slightly loosen his grip. He was never that reckless and he would pay dearly for this one moment of insanity. As the back of his head rudely met the carpeted floor, Sam cursed himself for being so pathetic. How could simple words, lies really, make him forget for even a second that _this_ wasn't his brother?

"Sammy, Sammy, Sammy…" The Shapeshifter sat on Sam's stomach, crushing the strong body writhing under him with Dean's weight. "You always were… such a naïve little bitch. See, that's why I always end up kicking your ass."

The Shifter put his hands around Sam's throat and started to squeeze, careful not to cause significant damage. The plan wasn't to kill Sam, just to choke him into submission. And soon, the combined effect of the beating he had endured and the lack of oxygen got the better of the young hunter. The Shifter watched with a satisfied grin as the young man's eyes lost their focus. When he was convinced all the energy had been drained out of Sam Winchester, he started pulling his clothes off.

Barely conscious of his surroundings anymore, Sam didn't attempt anything to stop him, even when he felt cold handcuffs bite the tender flesh of his wrists.

The Shifter took a little moment to enjoy the sight of the immobilized human form sprawled on the floor. But he wanted Sam awake—docile, but awake— through all of it. So he slapped Sam's right cheek repeatedly and smiled when the young man started to moan, slowly and painfully coming back to his senses.

"You have no idea how you look," the creature breathed. "What he would give to have you like this…"

Sam's eyes flew open upon hearing the enigmatic words. Too weakened to do anything, he watched the Shifter grab his ankles, and shivered with disgust as the thing's fingers ran from his calves to the back of his knees.

"Why are you doing this?"

The answer was disturbing, uttered in a mechanical tone like a line rehearsed too many times.

"I wanted you. I needed a way to get close to you. So now, I am Dean."

"You are not Dean!" Sam screamed, ignoring the pain that exploded in his skull. He was screaming his anger at himself, for falling into the trap laid out by that identity thief like an amateur.

"I guess that's why, contrary to him, nothing's stopping me from having you."

And to illustrate his point, the Shifter dug his fingers into Sam's thighs and pushed them apart none too gently. Then he suddenly went still, all senses alert like an animal sensing a predator, got up abruptly and started pulling his clothes off.

Sam saw the thing ripping its skin, muscles and bones. He closed his eyes, rejecting the image of his brother's body so horribly disfigured, and he reopened them when the sounds of melted flesh splashing on walls and bits of broken skeleton hitting the floor had stopped. He took a moment to digest the fact that he was now looking at himself. What looked like his identical twin grabbed a piece of ripped cloth and kneeled down over him.

"Shh…" the Shapeshifter whispered, securing the gag with a tight knot behind Sam's head. "I'm gonna go see big brother. It shouldn't take too long to get rid of him. In the meantime, you sit tight and don't cause any trouble."

Eyes wide, Sam shook his head no and kicked his legs but he was helpless to do anything to warn Dean. Frustrated, he groaned as he watched the thing put Sam's clothes on, ruffle its hair, scratch its skin and punch itself in order to strategically scatter wounds on its newly acquired face, neck, and hands.

When he was satisfied that he looked disheveled enough, the Shapeshifter gave Sam a warning glance, placing a finger over its mouth in an ironic gesture to remind Sam to keep quiet before he left the room.

* * *

Teeth gritting in anger, feet stomping the floor, the Shifter cursed under his breath. He hated being interrupted when he was seducing a new lover. He grabbed a small but heavy decorative candleholder from a shelf and hid it in the back of his pants, determined to get rid of the nuisance quickly so he could get back to business. He sensed Dean was getting close. He sighed heavily and schooled his features.

"Showtime," he muttered cynically.

"Sam!" Dean let the relief wash over him. Sam had managed to escape. He looked scared and lost; a little banged up, but in one piece.

"Dean!"

The Shapeshifter threw himself into Dean's arms, pressing his face against Dean's shoulder.

"Sam. You okay? You hurt?"

The reply came in the form of choked sobs.

"Sam, come on man, you're scaring me."

"He… he forced me, Dean."

"Sammy, no…"

Dean put his arm around Sam's shoulders. His eyes stung as the weight of his failure to protect little brother crushed him like ton of bricks.

"He said he did it because you secretly wanted to."

"I'd never do that! You know that, right... Sammy..?"

True to his kind, the Shifter could not resist such an easy opportunity to toy with a human prey. Playing on guilt; mixing lies with truths— it was all part of the job description. He knew Dean would rather saw his arm off than hurt his brother. But making the overprotective Winchester think his beloved Sammy now believed otherwise was too much fun to pass up. So, in Sam's skin, he offered no reassuring words and responded with an accusatory silence. Then he reached behind to grab his weapon and prepared to strike.

But Dean pulled away too soon and he ordered, "Go. Wait for me outside."

"Where are you going?"

"I'm gonna rip the son of a bitch apart!"

Things were not going as the Shifter had planned. The hunter had recovered from the initial shock that made him vulnerable and easier to manage quicker than expected, and he was now seething and out for blood. The Shifter knew, from using Dean's skills, that he would not last one round against him. He needed him close enough that he would not see the blow coming; so he gripped his rival's shoulders and begged, "I'm scared, Dean, please don't leave me!"

Dean furrowed his brow, taken aback by the outburst. For all he liked to tease his little brother about being a girl, Sam was never this dramatic. He was discreetly retrieving the gun tucked in the back of his jeans when the other man shoved him against the wall and proceeded to kiss him. Just as he was about to shoot, a sharp pain burst in his head and everything went black.

As he dragged Dean inside a room far away from the one Sam was caged in, the Shifter shook his head vigorously, wondering what had just happened. He had always planned on neutralizing Dean by knocking him unconscious. Kissing him, however, had never been part of the plan. After he had Dean tied up, he took a moment to download Sam's memories. When he was done reviewing the darkest confines of the younger Winchester's mind, he was astounded.

"I thought my family was messed up…"

He spared one last glance to the unconscious man lying on the floor before locking the door behind him.

_**Part II: Drowning In Lies**_


	2. Ch1Lies Of Another PIIDrowning In Lies

**CHAPTER II: LIES OF ANOTHER**

**PART II - DROWNING IN LIES**

The Shifter smiled at the sight of the long limbed form struggling weakly on the floor. He locked the door and walked toward Sam. He was once again in Dean's skin, and now that his playtime was not going to be interrupted again, he didn't bother putting clothes back on. He undid the gag covering his captive's mouth and tossed it aside.

"Where's Dean?" Sam asked, turning his head away.

"Why so shy, Sam? Don't like what you see?"

"_Where's Dean?"_ Sam repeated as firmly as one could when they were feeling so nauseous.

"Dean can't come to the phone right now."

Grabbing Sam under his armpits from behind, the Shifter dragged him across the floor and hoisted him into the bed.

"He thought he could just sneak up on me!" the Shapeshifter scoffed and he crouched near the leather jacket discarded on the carpet. He pulled the knife and ropes he had prepared in advance out of a pocket and kept talking. "Little detail, I am him..." He took a moment to methodically fold and cut the rope in three pieces, never stopping his soliloquy, "…I can read his thoughts whenever I want, and somehow, I sensed he was up to no good."

The Shifter got up and walked to the edge of the bed.

"See, Samuel," he said in the most pleasant tone Dean's vocal cords could utter, tying Sam's left ankle to the bedpost; "when I borrow a body, I can find out what the owner is thinking if I'm downloading his or her mind at the time. That's how I knew he had found us."

"Where is he?" Sam asked for a third time, trying to hide the fear in his voice.

"So concerned about Dean, are we?" the Shifter mocked as he worked on the right ankle. "Tsk tsk tsk, you've been holding out on me, Sammy." he scolded, waiving a disapproving finger.

He grabbed Sam's cuffed wrists and secured them to the headboard with the third piece of rope.

"And here I thought our tough guy was torturing himself all alone, pining away over some unrequited… lust. I can't tell you how surprised I was to discover…" he lingered, giving Sam a strange smile, "that you want him too."

The Shapeshifter smirked as Sam lowered his eyes.

"It poses a troubling question. I've been both of you, and I can't, for the life of me, figure out which one wants the other more."

He tickled the sole of Sam's right foot, demanding his full attention. "Tell me, Sammy, how did you do it? All those nights in the same room, and you never..."

"Shut up!"

The Shapeshifter smiled at the fuming Winchester, inching closer to whisper in Sam's ear, "Well sweetheart, you're finally gonna know what it's like to be with Dean. Don't thank me, the pleasure's all mine." he added when he caught the flash of panic in Sam's eyes.

There was a huge mirror resting on the wall next to the bed and the Shifter caught a glimpse of his current incarnation. Hypnotized, he slowly moved toward his image and stared intently.

"I get why you're so obsessed with him."

His fingers caressed the full lips he had borrowed and slid to his neck. In this skin he was becoming hopelessly vain. He tilted his head and examined himself through half closed lids. He liked how it made him look: dark lashes fluttering over sexy bedroom eyes. He finally tore himself away from his reflection and turned back to Sam.

"And I understand why he's so hung up on you." he continued, in that now familiar way he had of picking up his monologue right where he had left it, after a lengthy silence.

These Winchesters were a rare breed indeed. Sam… Those interminable legs, the insolent curve of a back that led to the perky butt he was going through all this trouble for. Soulful eyes that made him look sweet, and so very innocent, when he clearly wasn't. Oh, he was going to have such fun pulling on those dark, silky locks while slamming inside the younger Winchester.

Stroking the length hardening between his legs, the Shapeshifter climbed on the bed. He positioned himself between Sam's parted legs and leaned in for a kiss. Sam turned away and pressed his mouth against his forearm. Amused, the Shifter wrapped his fingers around Sam's cock and started playing with it. After a minute of getting no reaction, he tried using his tongue. Sam violently jerked his hips forward and slapped his face away from his groin. The Shifter's growing frustration exploded when he heard Sam call his brother's name, face still pressed against his arm as if calling Dean could save him from the inevitable.

"Your knight in shining armor won't come for you this time, Sammy!" he spat venomously.

"It's Sam! Only the real Dean gets to call me Sammy!" the younger Winchester spat back with all the contempt he could summon.

Unwilling to take the humiliation lying down, the Shifter punched his prisoner in the stomach. Body tense and eyes shut, Sam absorbed the pain quietly.

"You will address me with respect, _Sammy_. I may look like your darling Dean but I'm nothing like him. That fool has spoiled you, and he has clung to duty instead of taking what was rightfully his. I'd have beaten some sense into you, and I'd have fucked you a long time ago, especially since you asked him yourself."

Sam wanted the ground under him to split apart and swallow him. Oh, he had hoped to God Dean had forgotten, or at least discarded the incident as a drunken-Sammy moment that didn't mean anything. His brother had majored in _Making Sam Squirm Advanced Studies_. But he had never mentioned the whole fiasco again, so Sam had thought…

"He has never forgotten about that," the Shifter said reveling in Sam's embarrassment. "In fact, he thinks about it all the time. Would you like it if I brought him up here so he can watch? We could give Dean a clear picture of the hot action he missed out on all these years."

"No, please don't do this…"

"Aw… Don't get all emotional, Sammy. I was just kidding. Just me and you, okay?"

The Shapeshifter went back to work on Sam's cock. Nibbling, licking, sucking, stroking, pulling out all the stops, and getting nowhere. Sam's lack of reaction infuriated him so much he got off the bed to pick up the knife he had refused to use until now. For the first time, he had wanted to spare someone the sadistic games he usually enjoyed. Sam was simply too pretty, he had decided. Ruining that face and body would simply be a crime. But his magnanimous resolutions were crumbling in the face of Sam's stubborn refusal to cooperate.

"Would you act like that if it was him?" he barked as he settled back between Sam's legs. "I'm giving you your fantasy here: Dean wanting you, making love to you."

"You're not Dean." Sam said with the greatest simplicity, as if he was indifferent to the sharp knife the maniac was wielding.

Sam hissed and squeezed his eyes shut when the blade sliced deep across his left upper thigh.

"I'm the best Dean you got right now!" the Shifter yelled, but Sam lay still in spite of the pain and fear.

"I'm the Dean who won't deny you." He was growing desperate as Sam just lay there, passive and stoic. "The one who won't deprive you of what you need. Come on, Sammy, just play along," he almost begged.

"I'll make it good, you'll like it..."

Realizing he was losing control, the Shapeshifter stopped pleading and tried a different strategy. He took a moment to steady his voice and said, "At least I don't secretly hate you."

The creature repressed a triumphant smirk when Sam's eyes started filling with shadows: doubt, incredulity, shock, anguish.

"Aw Sammy, don't tell me you never noticed?"

Forcing Sam's chin up with the bloody tip of the knife without breaking the skin, the Shifter started lecturing him.

"You really should have appreciated your brother more than you have. Dean has a lot of good qualities. And he has done everything for you; given everything. And you took it all, gladly. But you're so selfish you'd never think of giving back. That's why he despises you. Oh, he'd bang you if he could, don't get me wrong; Dean knows a fine piece of ass when he sees one. But deep down, he sure got issues with you. Your precious Dean… he hates you, Sammy. So much of the misery in his life is because of you. Because he had a little brother to care for when he was only a kid himself. And then, what did the little brat do? Just up and left. Dean hates you. And it doesn't matter how hard he fights it, and how long he tries to hide it; one day, he just won't be able to pretend anymore and he'll be done with you. Finally free from that chokehold you have on him."

Sam shook his head.

"That… that's not true," he stuttered despite of his efforts to keep his composure. "Dean…loves me. He's my brother. He's everything to me."

"And you're nothing but the burden that's crushing his shoulders."

The words felt worse than being stabbed a dozen times, and soon, tears were falling freely from Sam's eyes. But he had nowhere to hide, now that his heart had been wrenched out from his chest and laid to rot on his stomach.

The Shifter watched the fight slowly seep out of his captive's pores and tried to hurry the process.

"Come on," he crooned. "Close your eyes and let go. You wanted Dean, tonight you'll have him. I'll deliver you from him and we can be together forever. All you have to do is choose me."

"Never! I'd rather you kill me."

The Shifter's jaw twitched. Why did he keep trying? They all preferred their mediocre lives, shattered dreams and imperfect relationships, to what he had to offer. They never chose him, and Sam wasn't any different. There would be no replacing Dean. No cajoling Sam into just giving it up to a copy because the real Dean didn't love him anymore, allegedly.

Dean. Dean was his last resort before he lost the will to negotiate altogether. Pretty Sammy be damned, his bones could be snapped in half just as easily as the others' had been.

Raging, the Shifter sliced the bicep Sam was wiping his tears on in one swift cut.

"I'm getting annoyed with you, Samuel," he warned.

He got up, blood dripping knife in hand, and walked toward the door. "Guess I'll go play with my twin. I'm sure the slut will show me a good time".

"No. No!"

The Shapeshifter kept walking. Sam struggled uselessly against his bonds, his handcuffs rattling against the headboard.

"Don't! Don't you dare!"

The creature grabbed the door knob.

"Stop! Don't do this. Please leave him alone".

"Are you offering yourself in his place? It's a bit late, don't you think? You had your chance…"

"No, please! Please. I'm—I'm..."

"You're what, Sammy?"

"I'm begging you. Not Dean. I'll do what you want."

A slow smile curved the Shifter's lips. Savoring the sweet taste of victory, he turned around to stare at his defeated prey.

When he had first laid eyes on him two days ago, walking close to this other man he seemed joined at the hip with, he had longed for a human touch again. Whenever he had a 'crush', he went through the trouble of finding the appearance that would best please the object of his affections. But they never appreciated his efforts and insisted on making things difficult. There was, however, always a way to break them. He only wished they would give in without forcing him to get creative.

He sauntered toward the bed. "You gonna kiss me, Sammy?

"Y… yes…"

"You gonna be a good little brother?"

Sam refused to lie and kept quiet.

"I didn't get that," the Shifter said stroking Sam's belly with the flat side of the blade.

"Yes." Sam whispered through gritted teeth.

"I'm gonna fuck you so good, Sam. Would you like that?"

Sam took a while to answer that one and silently prayed, _as long as it's not to Dean_. "…Do whatever you want."

"Close enough," the Shifter said. It wasn't the resounding yes he had hoped for, but he was tired of bargaining and waiting.

Fresh new tears, tears of helplessness this time, escaped Sam's eyes. To him, it wasn't close enough. It was as close and as far as it could have possibly been. Someone who wasn't Dean was doing and saying these things; someone wearing Dean's skin, of all people. And that's what made it so much worse than anything he could have ever imagined.

He was no delicate flower. He could have taken it from anyone else. Anything else. Hell, a bunch of anyones or anythings. Anything but this; this twisted parody, this jaw-breaking slap from a fate punishing him for his darkest, most secret sin, by having him raped by a monster pretending to be the only man he ever wanted but could never have.

"Now, sweetheart, kiss me like you mean it."

Sam shuddered with all his being but he parted his lips.

_**Ch 2: Knight in Duty's Armor**_


	3. Ch2 Knight In Duty's Armor

**Chapter 2 – Knight in Duty's Armor**

**Summary:** Big brother to the rescue

"Hold on, Sammy, it'll be over soo... Dammit!"

_Pain_; he had to think about pain!

Dean had realized that the Shifter's perfect timing was proof he could read his mind at any given moment. Since then, he had focused his thoughts on the ringing in his head, to hide the fact that he had managed to untie himself, sneak out of the house and pick up guns in the Impala to replace the ones that had been confiscated in the shuffle. He was going as fast as he could, but he was worried sick that he was taking too long.

_Pain. Pain…_

He couldn't afford letting the panic consume his thoughts. If he wanted to use the element of surprise, the Shapeshifter had to think he was still lying in that dark room, suffering from the after-effects of the blow to his head.

_Pain. Pain. Pain…_

Controlling his thoughts was an arduous exercise. But no matter what it took, this time, Dean was going to make sure the son of a bitch didn't see him coming.

* * *

"Pretty Sammy…"

Sam fought the urge to vomit as the assailant thrust his tongue deeper in his mouth. The kiss was sloppy, distasteful, and after a few minutes Sam really couldn't take anymore. He didn't want to set the psychotic creature off by rejecting him one time too many, so he slowly moved his head to the side and started placing half-hearted kisses over his cheek and jaw.

"Mmh…" the Shifter moaned appreciatively and moved his hips faster between Sam's legs. It had taken everything in Sam to achieve the partial erection that kept his jailer's frustration to a minimum. He had to push the grim reality aside and pretend really hard that it was Dean, a Dean who still cared about him.

Sam fought back the tears. Now wasn't the time to fall apart. He had to make sure that Dean was safe. Make sure he kept the Shifter happy, so he wouldn't change his mind and go after his brother. He would get through this. And after whatever the Shifter had in store for him, he would find a way to pacify him with false promises of shared love. Then he would escape, find Dean, and… he was too worn out to think that far ahead.

An unwelcome intrusion startled Sam out of his reverie. The Shifter's hand wandered between his thighs, fingers searching for his entrance. Sam knew it was coming all along, but he still wanted to scream, _No, God no…_

"Hey!"

Everything happened so fast. Before Sam could wrap his head around what was going on, the Shapeshifter was on the floor. The thing had turned around to see Dean Winchester barge in guns blazing, and the avalanche of bullets that savagely pierced through its upper body had sent it flying.

"Sammy!"

Sam was sprawled over the bed, naked, legs spread, feeling cheap, diminished and exposed. Overcome with shame and unable to meet Dean's concerned gaze, he turned away. Dean immediately threw his jacket over Sam to protect his brother's battered modesty. Using his knife, he started to cut the ropes. The fear that flashed in Sam's eyes when he saw the blade made him whisper, "It's okay, Sammy, I'm just gonna get you outta these."

Dean promptly hid the offending object when he was done with the ropes and started working on the handcuffs. Sam was shaking, fingers clenched into painful fists, and Dean was careful not to jar his brother's bloodied wrists as he was picking the lock. He could tell by Sam's reactions that this wasn't their usual "the hunt took a few left turns but we still totally kicked ass in the end" type scenario. Sam was downcast and withdrawing into himself already. This time something was seriously wrong. Dean clenched his jaw, his eyes burning. How could he have let this happen?

As soon as he was freed, Sam got out of the bed. Dean started picking up clothes off the floor, walking around the puddles of melted wax the Shifter had left when he had shed his Dean skin to borrow Sam's, and stepping over the Shifter's pulverized torso to grab the last item, a pair of jeans. These clothes were in Dean's size. They wouldn't be very comfortable for his gigantic Sammy, but he wasn't leaving his brother alone, with a mangled corpse that looked like him, in this room of horrors, to gather the Sam-sized clothes the Shapeshifter had dropped at the bottom of the stairs.

Dean handed Sam the clothes. He swallowed the knot in his throat when he met his brother's vacant stare. Sam looked so fragile, standing there, pale, bruised and bloodied, clutching Dean's leather jacket with trembling hands, arms, legs, and feet bare.

"Sam!" Dean called loudly in hopes of a reaction.

Sam finally took the clothes and Dean turned around to give him some privacy. It had never been an issue before, but Dean could tell now wasn't the time to invade Sam's personal space.

Anxious to leave the premises, Sam didn't take long covering up. As soon as they were outside, he bent over and started puking. He emptied his stomach and retched until his chest was sore and his throat on fire.

How was he ever supposed to look Dean in the eyes again? He felt dirty. Anyone walking in on that scene would have concluded that he was enjoying being defiled by some freak who was pretending to be his brother. And considering the fact that Dean had never forgotten about his drunken sexual advances, it would be easy for him to conclude that Sam had been living out some sort of sick fantasy.

When Dean tried to take his arm to help him stand upright, Sam moved away from the extended hand. There was no violence, no anger, not even rejection in his gesture. It was just the outward expression of what he was feeling inside: the need to curl himself in a ball and deal alone, hidden from view.

As he watched Sam make a beeline for the Impala with rigid steps, Dean tried not to take it personally. It was an understandable reaction after what Sam had just been through.

But what exactly _had_ Sam been through? What had that thing done to his baby brother? What had _he, _let this evil son of a bitch do to his baby brother?

Despite his efforts, Dean couldn't help but take it personally. He allowed someone who wore his face to mess with Sam. He failed Sam, and his brother was justifiably angry.

Dean closed his eyes and bit the inside of his lower lip. If this wasn't bad enough already, he could think of another reason for Sam to be angry. God only knew which lies, twisted truths and plain truths the Shifter had told Sam. The truth was that Dean—skirt-chasing, get-away-from-me-dude Dean— had been in love with his little brother for years.

The lies… Christ, they could be anything; starting with the one the Shifter had told him in the hallway: that Dean wanted to physically hurt his brother. Yes, he ached to touch Sam in ways that were devious, twisted, and wrong. But he would never force himself on him.

None of it changed the fact that Sam was now uncomfortable around him, possibly scared and/or disgusted at the mere sight of him. Dean wanted to go back in the house and massacre the shapechanging son of a bitch all over again, slow and bloody. It all happened too fast; the Shifter's death had been merciful, kinder than what the thing deserved after what it had done. But that was the last thing he should be focusing on. Sighing deeply, he opened the driver's side door.

* * *

The doors of the Impala were not locked, seeing as Dean had more pressing matters to deal with at the time he made his panicky arrival at the house. So Sam had let himself in, and he was now waiting, sitting in the passenger seat, his head leaning heavy against the window, lost in his thoughts.

He should have looked happy to see Dean. And he was. But instead of basking in the joy and relief, he was ashamed of the fact that once again, he had put himself in a situation he could not handle, and forced Dean to come to his rescue. He wouldn't have thought twice about it before, it's what they did for each other, but now, everything was different. Now he knew.

He knew his brother saw him as a burden, as the little plague he was condemned to look after, rescue, and keep out of harm's way, even when the useless ingrate wasn't worth half the trouble he was always causing. And it was killing him. Dean had done what he did out of duty, nothing more. He was like a martyr and Sam… Sam felt like a cross.

He didn't move when Dean settled behind the wheel. He stayed quiet, trying and failing spectacularly to make himself smaller.

* * *

Dean would have loved to leave town right away but Sam needed care. Where was he supposed to go? Back to the motel, or straight to the emergency room?

He was rubbing his palm over his face for the third time when Sam finally opened his mouth.

"You don't have to drive so slow, Dean, I'm fine. I just wanna go to sleep."

"You're gonna be okay. I'll look after you, Sammy, it's my job."

Dean couldn't see the agony on Sam's face when he said the last four words, words that were meant to comfort. Instead, he was asking himself how he was going to turn that wish into a reality, when each reason he came up with to explain Sam's attitude was more sinister than the next, and when every last one of them placed the blame on Dean's shoulders.

For the second time since he got in the car, Dean dared a glance in Sam's direction. His little brother's body showed no signs of life, aside from the fog his breath painted intermittently on the window.

Dean would have given an arm and a leg for some 'sharing and caring'.

Everything was such a mess.

_**Chapter 3: Quiet Days & Stormy Nights**_


	4. Ch3 Quiet Days & Stormy Nights PI BUT

**CHAPTER 3 : Quiet Days & Stormy Nights**

**Summary :** The boys struggle to deal with the aftermath of their encounter with the Shapeshifter.

**PART I – Bottled up truths **

Sam kept his eyes closed. He could tell Dean was looking at him, and he wondered what his brother was thinking about. His cheeks burned at the thought that his drunken little stunt was still a fresh memory in Dean's mind. Sam exhaled tiredly and let his mind drift back to that day.

It was the last few months before graduation. Dad had been gone for a while. Twenty seven days to be exact. Sam did not check his calendar off. He didn't need to; since he and Dean reached the age to fend for themselves in the absence their father, he considered every day spent without John a blessing.

When John went away, the endless arguments, the nightmarish hunts, and the constant threat of having to move to some unknown place in the middle of the night to catch up with the supernatural, went with him. Sam had some peace. He also had Dean all to himself. It was their time; and during that time, Dean did everything he could to make life fun and normal.

Dad checked in with them once in a while to make sure they had enough money left and working credit cards. Confident his sons were now capable "soldiers", he had decided he could leave them alone for another month to pursue whatever job popped up on his radar.

Sam had every reason to be happy. He would stay in town long enough to graduate without switching high schools; and when he wasn't in class or finishing homework at the library, he got to spend all his time with Dean.

In the morning, Dean made him breakfast before dropping him off at school. And all day, Sam was looking forward to the moment he would walk outside and see his brother waiting for him, leaning against the Impala. He didn't care about the envious stares that followed him as he left, chauffeured by the hot guy with the cool ride. It was about their time: Sam sharing the highlights of his day, Dean teasing his "favorite geek", and all the things they got to do after.

Because he always produced an immaculate report card, Dean never saw the point in hassling him over homework. So after school was all about fun. They went to the movies, and went to eat at that cheap "New Age-y, Feng Shui-y, weirdo restaurant" Sam liked and Dean just loved to bitch about. They went to the town's cultural center for that art exhibit Sam just had to see. They turned every card, dart and pool game into some epic tournament they just _had _to win, in order to avoid being stuck with cleaning and laundry duty for a whole week, or worse, losing something essential. Sam fought to keep Dean's knives away from his bangs, and Dean fought to rescue the tired tapes Sam threatened to salt and burn if he had to listen to them one more time in the car.

On the weekends, they would lock themselves in with food and a bunch of dollar-a-day movies. They talked about anything but hunting. They laughed easy, especially when pranks were involved. And if the victim frowned under the assault, retaliation never failed to restore their good mood.

When Dad wasn't there, Sam had Dean's undivided attention. If Dean met up with some girls, it was always when his little brother was at school, so they wouldn't interfere with his 'Sammy time'.

That one day, Sam's classes finished an hour earlier. His first instinct was to call his brother but he decided against it. If Dean was home, he would surprise him. If he wasn't, he would work on fixing him that decadent eight-layer burger he loved, to make up for a week's worth of "this ain't food Sammy, this is what food eats, dammit" cuisine.

It took Sam twenty minutes to walk home. When he arrived at the small two-bedroom house their Dad was renting, he heard Zeppelin playing. It seemed Dean was having a party all by himself and Sam was looking forward to crashing it. He didn't find his brother in the tiny kitchen or in the adjacent living room, so he headed to the bedroom they shared. The door was slightly ajar. He pushed it open and stopped dead in his tracks.

His brother was with a guy. More like, on top of a guy. Some guy he had never seen before, and who was wailing as Dean pounded into him with a vengeance. Fortunately, both had their backs turned, so they never saw him standing in the doorway. Sam took a step backward and all but ran out of the house. His mind on temporary leave, he only remembered to lock the door out of habit.

His heart ached in his chest when he stumbled outside. He felt oddly betrayed. Anyone who knew Dean knew he had a way with the ladies; or that many of them simply couldn't keep their thongs on when he was around, depending on who you asked. But this was different. Sam had never had to compete with men for Dean's affection.

Dean was his, and the idea that he would turn to any guy other than Sam to fulfill any kind of need, filled Sam with a burning feeling he wasn't coherent enough to identify. His mind broke through the fog and told him that he was overreacting, but Sam couldn't help the way he felt. And at that moment, it was anger at the little son of a bitch who had usurped a right that was his only: being close to Dean.

Sam ran shaking fingers through his hair, wondering what to do next. One thing for sure, he wasn't interested in going back home any time soon. Still, he had to inform Dean that he had already left school.

Even though the prospect of disrupting his big brother's 'activities' was appealing, Sam did not want to call him. One word out of his mouth, and Dean would know something was wrong and start asking questions. There was also the fact that Sam didn't trust himself to keep bitter words from rolling off his tongue if he talked to Dean in his agitated state.

So he walked to a phone booth nearby, gathered a few coins and called one of his school mates. Andrew was always borrowing his notes and he was more than happy to return the favor. He promised he would call Dean right away to give him the message.

After that Sam wandered around town for hours, frustrated that every place he went reminded him of Dean, Dean, stupid Dean. He ended up seeking refuge at the movies. He 'watched' two of whatever feature movies were playing back to back, seated in the last row because he was in no mood to deal with people complaining about his height. He wasn't really paying attention, just passing time, stalling because he didn't want to go home. But after three hours of deafening explosions and enough flashing lights to induce a seizure, he still wasn't ready to face Dean.

It was nine thirty and he still didn't know what to do. So he walked some more, hands in his pockets, oblivious to what was going on around him until the music blaring out from some unknown sleazy bar made him realize he had strayed far from the center of town.

After a quick look around, he concluded he must have landed in the questionable part of town. It didn't bother him. With his military-style training, he was confident he could handle whatever trouble was thrown his way. Still, being somewhere he wasn't supposed to be reminded him that he never stayed out this late without letting Dean know where he was.

He knew by now his brother must be conjuring up all sorts of scenarios, and he tried telling himself he didn't care. But he did, and he suddenly felt guilty for being vindictive. In their family, you didn't just disappeared in the night because you were upset. With everything that threatened them in the shadows, keeping tabs on each other was a basic rule of safety. And even if he just wanted to make a statement, what did Dean ever do that was so wrong?

He spotted a greasy looking phone booth he could just tell would reek of rancid pee. Then he eyed the bar again and decided a little liquor would provide some much needed courage. The smell of burnt cigarettes that permeated the room filled his nostrils as soon as he stepped inside. They weren't many patrons yet, probably because it was still early. He settled himself on the empty stool in the dark corner next to the wall. The bartender, a friendly looking guy who clearly knew when to strike up conversation and when to shut the hell up, took his order and quietly fetched him a cold one.

* * *

An hour later, Sam had to aim carefully at the counter in order to put his bottle down without spilling it. He smiled, remembering his brother telling whoever wanted to hear, that Sam was always three beers away from singing karaoke. He snorted, "That'll show him."

Four beers and he still had things under control, kinda… Well at least he wasn't singing. Sam squinted and wondered how the hell he had gotten up to four beers. He guessed that's what happened when he swore each beer he ordered would be the last, but ended every one of them with the promise that he'd call Dean after he had "just one more".

"This seat taken?"

Sam didn't bother to look. He just grabbed his bottle and swallowed the last drops. "Suit yourself."

"I'm Josh."

"Sam."

"Can I offer you a drink, Sam?"

"No thanks, I'm…"

Sam stopped midsentence. Now that he bothered to look, he was surprised by the stranger's intense gaze. He wasn't drunk enough that he would mistake the man's intentions. And he had to admit: even if he didn't usually pay attention to men, this one was rather handsome. Sure, the lips were lacking in fullness, the eyes couldn't pass for green; and the lashes… But really, how many guys had lashes like Dean's anyway. Sam sighed. He had to stop doing this to himself.

Taking Sam's prolonged examination as an invitation, Josh got closer and teased in a low voice, "Come on, Beautiful, just one drink."

Sam had his fair share of giggling and blushing admirers at school; but this bold and aggressive approach wasn't anything he was really prepared for. But what the hell, he thought. It felt good to feel wanted. And Dean wasn't the only one who could have casual encounters with whomever he liked. He winced when he caught himself thinking about his brother, again.

Another drink. That sounded like a brilliant idea right about now. He was still too sober, too aware, of the disappointment and hopelessness that lingered in his heart. So he nodded.

"So who is he?" the guy asked when the bartender pushed his fifth beer of the night in front of Sam.

"What?"

"You said, _that'll show him_. Who were you talking about? Boyfriend?"

Sam snorted with derision, "No."

"Just checking. Although I kinda knew that already."

"Is that right?" Sam was annoyed by the comment and it showed.

A seductive grin stretching his lips, Josh ran a finger down Sam's cheek. "Yes. If I was your boyfriend, I certainly wouldn't let you wander alone in a place like this."

"You'd keep me under lock and key?" Sam sneered.

"No. I'd keep you under me."

Sam opened his mouth and closed it soon after. At a loss for words, he decided to take the safer route and communicate with the neck of his bottle. Soon he was forgetting everything as the booze kept flowing: his initial reserve, his inhibitions, and the fact that he was supposed to let Dean know that he was still alive. The attention was intoxicating, Josh's hands increasingly adventurous, and Sam officially too drunk to mind. He was startled when his stool wobbled perilously under him as someone yanked him by the arm.

Josh reacted immediately, pulling Sam closer to him. He got up and yelled at the intruder. "Hey, get your hands off him!"

"What the hell do you think you're doing? I've been looking all over for you! Get your ass up, we're going home!"

Sam looked up, "Dean?"

"What, you know this guy?"

"I think I'm gonna stay, Dean."

"I think I didn't hear you right. Let's go!"

Dean jerked Sam's arm.

Unwilling to stand passively as his potential hookup was getting manhandled, Josh judged it opportune to intervene. He got in Dean's face and said, "You heard him. He doesn't want to go with you, so get lost."

Dean's nostrils flared, his jaw twitched, but he put his hands up, refusing to touch the man. He was pissed, and itching to use his fists, but not enough to lose sight of his priority, which was getting Sam the hell out of here.

"Stay outta this, man…"

"Or wha…?"

Dean had no time to sit there and chat, so Josh never got the chance to elaborate further. He tumbled down to the dirty floor, his palm pressed against the left half of his face. Sam tried to help but Dean stopped him.

"Sam, this is the last time I say this. If you want to leave here on your own two feet, start walking. Or so help me God I will drag your ass out by your fucking hair if I have to."

Sam glowered defiantly at Dean for a couple of seconds; then he brushed past him and headed for the door. His balance was precarious, so it wasn't the dramatic exit he had in mind; but he managed not to fall flat on his face, which was a victory in and of itself.

Outside, Dean caught up to Sam and tugged at his sleeve, forcing him to turn around and look at him.

"What the hell are you doing? Do you have any idea how worried I was?"

"Leave me alone."

Sam staggered toward the car but Dean was far from finished. He stood in front of his brother and shouted, "Leave you alone? That all you have to say? I've been looking all over for you, going out of my freakin' mind. And I find you in some dive, getting wasted, letting some douchebag paw you like a you're some kind of slut…"

Sam shoved Dean, hard. He felt like a ticking time bomb, with the jumble of contradictory emotions that were swirling inside of him. He was turned on by Dean's territorial behavior, happy that his brother had combed the town in search of him, and still angry at Dean for giving too much of himself to some random guy. To top it all off, he was inebriated, and the alcohol had eroded the filters that usually restricted his actions and guided his behavior. There was nothing to contain his inner chaos anymore and it all came crashing down.

He shoved his brother again and Dean's back banged violently against the car. Ignoring Dean's pained gasp, Sam crushed him with his body and asked, "Where do you get off calling me a slut, when you were the one who was screwing some guy in our bedroom?"

Dean's eyes widened. He opened his mouth but Sam kept talking, "You think you're the only one who has needs? Well, you're wrong. And if you don't want me to hook up with random guys, maybe you should give me what I want".

Sam covered those sinfully plump lips with his, but Dean struggled and managed to squirm away.

Sam simply crushed his brother harder, pinning him to the side of the car. He wrapped his arms around him and forced his legs open with one knee. In his drunken state, he was using his strength and extra inches against his brother in a way he would never dare to if he was sober. He knew Dean would be forced to fight if he wanted to escape. He could tell his big brother didn't want to get rough and at this point, he was not above taking advantage of it.

"Sam, don't…"

Dean tried to plead to whatever was left of his brother's conscience. Sam replied with a bruising kiss.

"What's the matter, Dean? Am I not your type?" He ran a hand across his brother's forehead, searching his eyes as he forced Dean's head back. "You give it to everyone! Why not me?"

He squeezed Dean in his arms again, possessive, desperate, and licked the shell of his ear.

"Hmph. Sammy, please, come on…"

Sam pulled on Dean's shirt and slid his hands on the warm skin of his brother's back. He slurred, "He's not the one I want, you know…"

"Dammit, Sam, stop! Don't make me hurt you…"

"I need this, Dean, I, I need y…"

Sam suddenly felt his legs give out and he was so uncoordinated he would have surely dropped to the ground if the arms that were pushing him away didn't reach out to catch his crumbling frame in time.

"Sam!"

In a blur, he felt that Dean was pushing him in the back seat. Then the car was moving, and so was his stomach. Later, he didn't remember how he got inside the house. He did, however remember the wonderful feel of a mattress dipping under his weight when Dean positioned him on his side, and the feeling that his brother was watching over him while he slept like the dead.

In the morning, a tired looking Dean had let him skip school. He had made a joke about greasy pork sandwiches and dirty ashtrays, and shot Sam a look that meant that it was all that needed to be said about the incident. Sam had felt terrible but he had kept his mouth shut, and most importantly, his hands to himself.

"Sam? Wake up."

Sam opened his eyes. He wished he had been sleeping instead of revisiting the time he had thrown himself at his brother. That ego-bruising experience was the last thing he should have been thinking about when he was already at his lowest.

He got out of the car and followed Dean to the motel room. He fought the urge to flee at the sight of the walls he would be trapped in with his brother and wished for the day to be over.

_**Part II: The Wreckage Inside**_


	5. Ch3 Quiet Days & Stormy Nights PII TWI

**CHAPTER 3 : QUIET DAYS & STORMY NIGHTS**

**PART II – The Wreckage Inside**

As soon as Dean entered the room, he went looking for the medical kit. Sam started taking his clothes off. They were dirty and sticky with Shifter waste. He all but tore the shirt off his chest, then he attacked the jeans like they had the devil in them. He peeled the blood soaked denim off of his left leg, hissing when it clung to the flesh the Shapeshifter had slashed through in a fit of rage.

It was only once he was out of the clothes that Sam realized he was standing in the middle of the room naked. He had been overcome with the need to get anything the Shifter had polluted away from him but now that he had snapped out of the trance, he noticed that Dean was staring at him, all of him; cataloguing bruises, lacerations, and trying to imagine everything else he couldn't see.

The Shifter made an unwelcomed apparition, whispering in his mind, _"You have no idea how you look. What he would give to have you like this…"_

Sam looked at his brother. One thing for sure, it wasn't lust in his eyes. Was it rather concern, at the sight of his wounds? A misguided sense of guilt? Or worse, disgust at the thought of that body spread out under a clone of himself? Sam couldn't look into Dean's eyes long enough to derive a conclusion. He only knew that he wanted to hide; his face, himself, his feelings, everything, from him. And when he saw Dean walk toward him, an uncontrollable surge of panic pushed him backward until his back slammed the wall.

"It's just me, Sammy, let me see…" Dean spoke softly, as if he was dealing with a frightened animal. Self-conscious like he had never felt before, Sam covered what little of himself he could with his hands, and shook his head no, his hair, a protective curtain drawn over his eyes.

Dean's hands slid gently over Sam ribs, palpating each of them and monitoring Sam's reactions for any sign of pain. Sam shivered under Dean's fingers. He asked himself how he could still feel pleasure when he felt so dirty and so confused. But that's what his brother did to him with the faintest touch.

Dean misinterpreted Sam's reaction. Guilt crept over his face at the thought of how his brother must be feeling: traumatized, wounded and stuck with someone he could barely stand to look at.

"I just want to make sure nothing's broken. And your arm is still bleeding."

"It's okay." Sam said, resisting Dean's attempts to look at his wounds more closely.

"We have to clean up these cuts, and…"

He had seen blood on the sheets and he wondered if he had made the right call. What if Sam needed more help than he could provide? What if he was hiding other injuries?

"Sam, did he…"

"I'm gonna take a shower."

Sam moved Dean's arm out of the way and walked toward the bathroom.

"Sammy…"

"I'm fine." he said, before closing the door behind him.

Dean sighed. He sat heavily on Sam's bed and rubbed his palm over his mouth. He could hear the sound of water running. He thought he should be in there, helping Sam, tending to his wounds, taking care of him as he usually did. Instead he was here, feeling useless and hating himself for all the shame he read in baby brother's eyes.

* * *

Sam welcomed the pain from the hot water digging into his cuts. It made him forget the despair, if only for a minute. His tears were mixing with the water running over his face. He wanted nothing more than to melt into Dean's arms, close his eyes and let big brother make everything right again, as only he could. But it wasn't something he could do anymore, and he felt selfish for mourning the loss of the brother who was always ready to carry the heaviest load for him even if it killed him.

When did it start? he wondered. After Stanford? Or maybe the resentment was already building prior to his departure; growing since the first time Dean had to go hungry so Sam could eat, do without so Sam wouldn't want. Had his brother's life been difficult because of him?

Sam leaned forward, banging his head on the wet tiles. It hurt and it would leave yet another bruise, but he didn't care. For just one second, he didn't want to think.

He had no idea how long he stayed in the shower, letting the water burn away the dirt and the blood, although it did nothing for the pain in his heart. He was forced out when the water turned cold. So he dried himself off, and took a moment to disinfect and bandage his cuts. He usually did this for Dean and Dean in turn patched him up. It was harder to do this on himself but he would learn.

When he was done, he wrapped a towel around his waist, and got out of the bathroom. Dean was in bed, his back turned to Sam and Sam breathed a sigh of relief, grateful he wouldn't have to endure more questions for the day.

He quickly grabbed a t-shirt and a pair of sweats, put them on and crawled into bed. Tense, he waited a minute to see if Dean, who he knew was still awake, would say something. He never realized when Morpheus mercifully stepped in to give him a break, however short it was…

* * *

_FT._

_Sam was in the library doing research when he received the cryptic text message from Dean followed by an address. He stole a car in a deserted alley and drove to the house like a madman. The door was open. He explored the surroundings and found Dean's cell phone broken and thrown on the living room floor. There were signs of struggle everywhere: broken glass, and knocked over furniture, but no sign of Dean. Sam climbed the stairs, his long legs swallowing the steps four at a time. FT. Funky town; it meant Dean was in trouble._

"_Sammy?"_

"_Dean, where are you? Is it still in the house?"_

"_I'm in here. And no, it left a while ago."_

_Guided by his brother's voice, Sam pushed opened the door at the end of the hallway. He found Dean cuffed by his ankles and wrists to a chair. He rushed to his side and quickly picked the locks open. _

"_Are you okay?" he asked._

"_Yeah."_

"_Good. We gotta find the Shifter before it hurts someone else."_

_Sam walked ahead of Dean. He thought he was with his brother so he didn't think of watching his back. His blood ran cold when he heard, "How nice of you to come and get me, sweetheart."_

_He knew he was in for a fight before he even turned around to face the Shapeshifter. Soon, blows were raining down on him. He kicked back with all his strength, but the thing used Dean's superior fighting skills against him with frightening efficiency._

"Sam!"

Dean tried to wake his brother up. Sam was grunting, kicking, and fighting an invisible enemy. He tried grabbing one of his wrists and received a blow to the jaw. Sam opened his eyes, kicked him again and yelled, "Get off! Get off me!"

Dean fell off the bed on his butt and winced.

"… Dean?"

He looked up and he saw that Sam was now fully awake.

"Dean, I'm sorry."

"Nah, it's okay."

But it wasn't. Any doubts Dean had left that the Shifter had been poisoning his brother's mind had vanished when Sam had shivered away from him. He wanted to explain that he'd never hurt him, swear that the Shapeshifter had lied, but he knew that Sam wasn't ready to hear it. So he got up, walked back to his bed and disappeared under the sheets.

Sam looked at his brother's tense shoulders, thinking he should say something; explain that he was only reliving the way he had fallen into the Shifter's trap, and that the punch in no way meant that he was afraid of Dean. But after struggling to find the words for a minute, he turned away with a sigh of defeat. He heard the other bed creak under his brother's weight and he fell asleep knowing Dean was looking at him the entire time.

* * *

"_Now, sweetheart, kiss me like you mean it."_

_The lips Sam had fantasized about since he was a teenager tasted like ash. His skin crawled as his body and soul rejected the imposter. But he didn't fight. He kept his eyes open, because the Shapeshifter threatened to replace him with a more willing partner if he tried to sleep through it. He still managed to escape to a safer place in his head. A place that only existed between his brother's arms and in his dreams, no matter how tainted they were by the Shapeshifter's revelations. _

_Alas, the Shifter's probing fingers yanked him back to reality. He had promised himself he'd go through what he knew was coming with what dignity he had left, and would not beg or plead unless he had to do it for Dean. But his resolve weakened when he felt intruding fingers slide close to the most intimate part of his body. He couldn't do it; be forced to stare into Dean's eyes while that face-stealing monster ripped him to shreds…_

"_No, no…"_

"Sam!"

Dean turned on the light and sat on his bed, feet on the floor. He called out to his brother again. He didn't know what else to do. Looming over his bed trying to touch him clearly wasn't a winning strategy. But it killed him to watch him suffer, and he had to grip the sheets to force himself down. The whimpers became unbearable. He shouted, "Sammy, please wake up!"

Sam immediately jerked awake. One look at his brother's face and he knew that once again his cries had pierced the veil of dreams and echoed into reality. He rubbed his eye with the back of his hand.

"Dean, I'm…"

"Don't, Sammy, it's okay."

They looked at each other for a moment and Dean sighed, turned off the light and lay back in his bed. Sam did the same, his eyes resolutely open on a ceiling he couldn't see in the dark. Unfortunately, there was no outsmarting sleep.

* * *

"_Where is he?"_

_Sam's voice trembled when he saw the Shifter walk back inside the bedroom. There was so much blood. Blood splashed all over the Shapeshifter's face, dripping down his chest, glistening on his hand and on the knife it was holding. His other hand was hidden behind his back._

"_Dean can't come to the phone right now." he answered with a grin._

"_What did you do to him, you son of a bitch?"_

_The Shifter revealed his other hand and he threw something on Sam. Sam looked down and he saw the necklace that never left Dean's neck. The thread was cut, sticky with blood; and the pendant was dented. It could only mean one thing, and as the Shifter roared with laughter, Sam understood that Dean was wearing it when he was stabbed in the chest. _

This time when Sam startled awake, it was without a sound. The sheer horror he had felt had clenched his throat, preventing him from uttering a word, let alone shout. He turned the light on and anxiously looked at the man in the other bed. Dean was breathing regularly, there was no blood on the sheets, he was alive, he was fine, yet Sam could not stop shaking. He quickly turned the light off, fearing he would wake his brother again.

Contrary to the first two, his last nightmare wasn't a reenactment of moments he had spent with the Shifter. This time his mind had manufactured a horror all its own, a way for Sam's subconscious to express the sense of loss he felt after the Shapeshifter had butchered the image he had of his brother. At the end of his rope, Sam curled his long body into the fetal position and sobbed silently. Exhausted by his harrowing night, he finally fell into a dreamless sleep. It was almost 6 in the morning.

* * *

Dean woke up two hours later. He stayed in his bed, thinking about the events of the day before and wondering how he could make things better. At 9, he didn't really have a solution but he knew two things. The first one was that he needed a new cell phone. The second one was that he had to hustle up some serious cash. They were low in funds and this was no time for Sam to sleep in a car. Plus, the way things were right now, he wanted to be ready for any emergency.

Dean looked at his brother. Sam was still asleep and he seemed to be resting. He would be hungry soon. Moving like the trained hunter he was, he got out of bed noiselessly, got ready and left a note on the table in case Sam woke up while he was out.

He came back with a girly coffee, bagels and a fruit cup for Sam. He ate his own breakfast quietly, his eyes never leaving the Sammy-shaped lump curled under the sheets, listening to his breathing and trying to detect any change. Soon Sam started moving in his bed.

"Hi, Sam," he said softly, not wanting to startle his emotionally drained little brother.

Sam looked at him, dark circles under his eyes, purple bruises on his face and neck, hair sticking every which way, and he smiled weakly. The desire to protect his baby brother slammed into Dean's gut.

"Hi, Dean."

"I got breakfast." Dean said with a forced smile.

"Thanks."

There was an uncomfortable silence and Sam finally said, "Hey Dean, about last night…"

"Don't apologize. It barely hurt at all." he said, jokingly rubbing his jaw. He took a bite of his Danish and asked, "I'm getting a new cell phone. You wanna eat and come with me?"

Sam opened his mouth and appeared to be searching for words.

"It's okay if you have other plans." Dean reassured.

"No, it's just… I'm still tired and I'd like to sleep some more."

"Sure."

Sam felt bad when he caught a flash of disappointment in Dean's eyes. He tried a little smile.

"I'll eat when I wake up."

"Super."

To put an end to the awkwardness, Dean got up, Danish and coffee forgotten, just like his appetite. He left the room, hoping Sam would be able to get more sleep if he wasn't hovering around. He would give his brother some space, come back with food around noon and head back to the pool hall.

* * *

Sam was biting into the last bit of a slice of melon when his phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Sam?"

"Hey, you got your new phone."

"Yeah, I called to give you the number… What are you doing?"

"I'm eating."

"Good. What do you want for lunch? I'm on my way."

"Dean, it's okay. I just ate and it's almost 12…"

"So, you'll be hungry at 4. Don't argue with me."

"Alright, um… just a sandwich then."

"Copy that. See you later."

"Thanks."

Sam put his cell on the table and cleaned up after himself. Then he went to the bathroom to dress his wounds. When he came out, there was a plastic bag on the floor near the entrance. He opened it and found a bottle of sleeping pills, two sandwiches, a salad, an apple and even a bag of green tea. He could picture Dean saying, _"And throw in a bag of Zen tea in there, that'd be good. He likes that stuff". _His smile died on his lips when an unwelcome visitor sneered in his head, _"that fool has spoiled you…"_ He gritted his teeth, exhaled and turned on the TV to fill the silence.

He spent a quiet day watching mindless TV: trashy talk shows, games shows, soaps operas, not thinking; all things he had never tried before. Then he ate, boiled some water to drink his tea and watched some more TV.

_Part III: First Confessions_


	6. Ch3 Quiet Days & Stormy Nights PIII FC

**CHAPTER 3 : Quiet Days & Stormy Nights**

**PART III – First confessions**

Sam realized he must have fallen asleep while he was reading. He didn't remember hearing his brother come in the motel room but he felt Dean pulling the book from his fingers and carefully moving him around so he could rest comfortably under the covers. Something melted in his chest. Dean's touch felt so much like love. _"Sammy, Sammy, Sammy…You always were… such a naïve little bitch"._ The voice of his nightmares stifled the hope that dared to flourish in his heart as he fell back into slumber.

* * *

"_Your precious Dean… he hates you, Sammy."_

_Sam felt a surge of hatred course through him. Hatred toward that thing that was toying with him, trying to break him. That 'nothing'; which owned neither soul nor body, and was trying to rob them of everything they had. But he wasn't going to allow it, not anymore. He looked straight at the Shifter, his voice unwavering as he replied, "No. He doesn't."_

"_Trust me, he does."_

"_And why should I believe you?"_

_The Shifter patted the side of his head with the bloody knife and said,"Because I know him better that anyone in this world. His mind is mine. His thoughts are mine. His feelings are mine."_

_Sam groaned, "Nothing of Dean is yours."_

"_Oh you are. And I'm going to prove it to you, to both of you."_

_The Shapeshifter moved to the side and Sam saw Dean behind him, tied to a chair. The Shifter positioned himself behind his brother. He took off the gag that covered Dean's mouth and pulled him by his short hair, forcing him to bare his throat._

"_Any last words for our Sammy?" he asked._

_And just as Dean was opening his mouth, the Shapeshifter slit his throat._

"_Oops." he said. "Oh well, it couldn't have been that important anyway."_

"_Nooo! Dean!"_

"Sammy, please."

Dean dodged a few blows as he tried shaking his brother out of the darkness.

"Sam, come on."

He weathered the storm and waited for Sam to come back to himself. This had gone on long enough. Screw it, he thought. He was done waiting for the 'right time'. He had to make Sam understand, now. He started speaking as soon as he saw recognition in his brother's eyes. He wanted a chance to get a word in before Sam started shutting him out.

"I would never hurt you, Sammy. You know that…"

Sam breathed harshly and he replied, "Yeah. Yeah I do."

"But that son of a bitch told you different, didn't he?"

"No, he didn't."

Dumbfounded, Dean released the arms he was gripping in his fists.

"Then why do you flip out every time I come close to you? What is this about?"

Sam looked at Dean pleadingly, silently begging him to quit asking.

"Let me help, Sammy."

"I'll be alright."

Dean was determined to get answers. If Sam knew he had nothing to fear from him, there had to be another explanation his attitude.

"Sammy, what did he do to you?"

"I really can't do this right now, Dean. Please..."

"I just want you to be okay."

Sam lowered his eyes, unable to deal with the sadness he saw all over Dean's face. He nodded and he turned away. He heard the click of his night lamp and the familiar noises of Dean settling into bed. He hid his face into his pillow and let out a muffled whimper. He didn't know what to do, what to believe anymore. He wanted to run to Dean for comfort and run as far away from him as he could at the same time. He missed the way things were between them, when he was blissfully oblivious of all the things that tormented him now. Sure they fought before. But no matter how tense things got, he knew they were only a lame joke away from making up. This time, Sam felt things would never be right again.

He clawed at the pillowcase, thinking about the source of all that confusion. It would be so easy to keep blaming the Shapeshifter for the way things were now. But the truth was Sam was the one pushing Dean away, refusing to hear his side, 'slicing his throat' every time he tried to get a word out. But it wasn't because he didn't want to listen; it was because he was terrified that he would find out that Shifter's words were true if he did.

And that's why the dead son of a bitch was still winning. And somewhere, Sam knew that the battles he cowered from would chase him in his sleep, where the Shifter, doubt, always won. He knew he would have to face up to reality sometime soon. He still wasn't fully prepared to find out if Dean truly harbored all the resentment the Shapeshifter had talked about, but he could still tell his brother how he felt about him spite of it all.

After mulling things over for a while, he took a deep breath and silently made his way to Dean's bed. He sat on the floor next the head, listened to his brother breathe for a moment, and called out softly, "Dean?"

Dean groaned and turned to look at him.

"Sammy?"

Dean's voice was even huskier when he emerged from sleep, and Sam felt the way it wrapped around his nickname like a caress, enveloping him from head to toe. His breath faltered a little and he asked, "Don't say anything, okay? Just listen. I don't want you to answer. I just need to tell you something. But you have to promise me you won't say anything."

Dean looked at the man sitting on the floor, knees bent. Sam sounded so young and so tired. He just wanted to wrap his arms around him and cradle him but instead he nodded. "Okay."

"Dean, I'm sorry…" Sam stopped to swallow a painful knot in his throat. "I'm sorry that things were so hard for you, when we were kids. I remember sometimes when Dad was late coming back in, and we would run out of food. This one time was worse than usual. When it was time for breakfast, lunch or dinner, you'd pretend you had already eaten and you'd fix my plate. When Dad finally came back, you were sick. He was late because he had been hurt pretty badly in a hunt and…" Tears crept in Sam's voice. "…he had to escape from the hospital to get back to us. He hid it from me, but when I was old enough to put two and two together, I realized you hadn't eaten anything in days."

Sam sniffled. "I didn't know. And I was not the easiest kid, and I know I gave you a hard time. And I complained so much about our life, when you always fought to make it better for me. I didn't know."

"Sam…"

Dean's fingers grazed his neck and Sam closed his eyes. He wanted to turn his head a couple of inches to the left and rest his wet cheek in the curve of Dean's palm but he moved aside. He wasn't going to be able to get through this if Dean started touching him.

"Dean, you promised."

Dean took his hand back and didn't say another word. Sam wiped his cheeks, pushed his hair back and continued.

"I'm sorry I cut you out of my life when I went to Stanford. I was mad at Dad; I was mad at our lives and mad at myself for the things I did before I left. But by doing that I was punishing you too. And for what? Taking care of me? Being good to me?"

With a snort of self-contempt he shrugged. "I guess I was being selfish. And when I came back I should have told you how much I regretted doing it. I should have told you that I knew I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you. Dean, you're the best thing that ever happened to me. And I wish, I could say the same about me when you're concerned but I understand why you feel the way you do. God knows you have every right to. You've certainly put up with me longer than Dad ever could. I'm sorry, Dean, for everything. I know you deserved better."

Because he had promised, Dean had to let Sam get up and walk without trying to stop him. He bit his tongue so he wouldn't say, _come here baby, it's okay. Don't be afraid. Let me do my job and chase the nightmares away_. He didn't know where all of this came from, and he had no idea what Sam meant when he said, _"I understand why you feel the way you do"_. He only knew that he had to press his hand over his heart, because it felt like it was going to burst. And when he fell asleep, he was a little lighter, a little happier.

_**Part IV: The Last Storm**_


	7. Ch3 Quiet Days & Stormy Nights PIV TLS

**CHAPTER 3 : Quiet Days & Stormy Nights**

**PART IV – The Last Storm**

When Sam woke up, the place was quiet and the smell of coffee filled the air. He guessed Dean had brought some breakfast for him before going back out. He was happy he had survived another night. Only one nightmare, a one-sided 'talk' with Dean, and some actual sleep. After the night before, he could only thank Heaven for small favors.

He spent another quiet day and kept himself occupied. This time Dean didn't show up around noon but Sam found sandwich wraps with his favorite fillings in the fridge. He ate one of them and when he got bored, he brought Dean's and his dirty clothes to the Laundromat next door.

When he was done washing, drying and folding, he sat in front of the TV and wondered where Dean went all the time. Not that he blamed him for wanting some space… His thoughts were interrupted when his phone rang.

"Hey, Dean."

"Hi, Sammy. Everything okay?"

"Yeah."

"I'll be back around eight…"

"See you then."

Sam put the phone down, slightly relieved. He was fluent enough in Deanspeak to know that _"I'll be back around eight…" _meant, "I'm not mad, or creeped out by your latest 'puke your feelings all over me' emo freakout; I'm just really busy". Deanspeak for "dude I can't be around you right now" was, "don't wait up Sammy."

Sam looked at his watch and he switched channels. _Dramas of our Days_ was starting soon, and Kendal's baby's paternity test results were up next. He wondered for a scary minute if he should be worried that he even knew what _Dramas of our Days_ was. Then he decided that if Dean could watch Oprah on the sly, he could indulge in a guilty pleasure too.

* * *

When Dean came home, he found Sam passed out on the couch next to the bottle of sleeping pills. He rescued the remote dangling from his brother's fingers and covered him with a blanket. Then he sat at the dining table, dumped a bunch of crumpled bills on top of it and started counting.

With his skills, separating beer soaked fools from their money was like picking low hanging fruit; and after spending two full days hustling pool, he was more than satisfied with the harvest. An idea was taking shape in his mind, and he wanted to be ready to take care of everything if it worked out. He booted Sam's lap top and started doing a little me research.

* * *

_Sam looked down at the sheet covering the lower half of his naked body. He was back in that bed, but this time he wasn't tied up. When he looked up he saw three silhouettes standing in the shadows._

"_Come to me, Sammy."_

"_No. Come to _me_."_

"_Don't you recognize me, little brother?"_

_It was the same voice, but it came from three different bodies, and they were all Dean, except they couldn't be. Sam already knew what game this was, and he was no mood to play. Unfortunately, he had no choice in the matter._

'_One' walked toward him, arm extended._

"_Sammy, come with me. I'll keep you safe."_

''_Two' stepped in front of 'One', blocking the way._

"_Don't believe him, he's lying."_

''_Three' sat on the bed and took Sam's hand with a gentle smile._

"_You can trust me, Sam."_

_Sam nodded and he followed ''Three' but as he walked past the other two he second guessed his decision. Now that he could look at him up close, he felt inexplicably drawn to 'One'. Before he could do anything they all formed a circle around him and started moving._

"_Choose."_

_They spoke in chorus, and they moved so fast, he was now utterly unable to tell them apart._

"_Choose!"_

_Their voices were echoing in his head and he grabbed fistfuls of his hair, lost._

"_Last chance…"_

"_I don't know…"_

"_You lose."_

_The carousel stopped spinning. A knife slashed the air. Someone cried. As Sam watched 'One' slump to the floor, he just knew…_

"_I told you he was lying. He can't keep you safe."_

''_Two' looked at him coldly before turning his back to walk out the room._

"_You can have Sam" he added for the 'Three's benefit. "He's your problem now. Been a pain in my ass since the day he was born."_

_Sam looked at his feet._

"_Dean…"_

_His Dean was on the floor, emptying himself of all his blood, and he was left with…_

"_I'm the best Dean you got right now, sweetheart!"_

_The Shifter laughed and grabbed him from behind, coating his skin with still warm blood._

"_No! Dean…"_

"_Let him go, Sammy. He never existed, only in your dreams. And the real one just walked out on you."_

_Sam was fighting against the Shifter's hold. He wanted to fall to the floor, hold Dean's body tight and never let go._

"I'm here, Sammy. It's me."

"You're not my brother."

"Sam!"

Sam blinked awake. He stopped struggling once he saw his brother knelt next to him.

"Everything's gonna be okay, Sam."

Sam pulled away from the embrace and he whispered, "No, it's not. It's too late."

"Too late how? Whatever that thing said, it was lying. You know those evil sons of bitches lie! Sammy…?"

Sam turned away with a sigh. Overwhelmed, and pinched the bridge of his nose. He never dreamed that being chased by so many Deans could be anything but heaven on earth.

"Don't let him, Sammy. Don't let him do that to us." Dean begged, his voice broken. "Say something, damn it!"

"Dean, it was just a nightmare that's all."

"Well it seems like I'm your nightmare now, Sammy."

Dean got up and he grabbed his jacket.

"Dean, where are you going?" Sam sat up and he watched his brother walk away.

"Out!" Dean barked, slamming the door so hard the walls rattled.

Sam put his head between his hands. He jumped at the noise of garbage cans being kicked to the floor. It was followed by a grunt that expressed all the frustration and despair Dean was feeling. Again, his brother was suffering because of him. Again in his dreams, the Shifter was winning, taking Dean away as he stood there, unable to do anything to stop it. And Sam had enough of it. He was through letting his nightmares and fears kick him around. What mattered was reality. And in reality, Dean was still by his side; and if he lost him today, it would be his own fault.

Sam gasped. He suddenly felt that he was going to choke if he didn't release some of that pent-up emotion soon. Unloading his feelings of frustration and sorrow on the nearest object, he punched the rickety coffee table. As his arm vibrated from the impact, he felt some relief from the fear that had been eating him alive.

"Get out of my head, you lying son of a bitch," he hissed between his teeth.

Sam punched one more time.

"You can't have me. He'll never let you have me."

He punched again.

"He put your sick, demented, ass in the ground."

He punched harder.

"So, fucking let go-of-me!"

The tired old table finally broke and with it, the hold the Shifter's ghost had over Sam. He ran to the parking lot, too frantic to bother with shoes, his right hand bleeding all over his shirt.

"Dean?"

He didn't care about the cold asphalt scraping his heels; he just wanted to find his brother.

"Dea…"

He realized the Impala was missing from its spot. He never heard its familiar rumble while he was obliterating the poor table. He went back to the motel, took off his shirt, wrapped it around his hand and he sat on Dean's bed, determined to wait for his return.

* * *

Dean parked the Impala in front of the little cafe. His fingers clutching the steering wheel, he threw his head back and breathed out heavily. Then he angrily wiped tears from his face.

He couldn't take anymore of Sam running from him. He was sick of watching him sink deeper into a well of darkness every day that went by. He feared that he would wake up one morning and find that Sam had left, if he didn't do something soon.

Last night had brought some hope. Sam had finally opened up, and Dean was not going to allow him to relapse into silence. After two days of wracking his brain to find a solution he finally made a decision. He texted Sam, _"Be back soon. Don't wait up."_

Hours later, he was back at the motel. The lights were still on and when he opened the door, he found his brother on his bed, one hand wrapped in fabric, and the other one clutching his cell phone, as if he had fallen asleep waiting. It was an amazing surprise, seeing how things had been lately. He had left more discouraged than ever, but co

ming back to find Sam in his bed gave him hope that his plan might end up working out for both of them.

He let out a whistle at the sight of what used to be their coffee table and dropped his clothes on the couch. Then he lied in his bed next to Sam. He knew he was probably in for an unpleasant night considering how violent his brother's nightmares were these days. But it didn't matter. Dean had never allowed Sam to sleep in the bed closest to the door and he wasn't starting today.

* * *

When Sam woke up, he was facing his own empty bed. Before his mind could come up with frightening scenarios of Dean ditching him, he felt a weight behind him and heard someone breathing.

A warm sensation spread through his chest. He should have known Dean would never let him to be the one sleeping next to the door. He wanted to stay there and soak up the heat emanating from his brother's body. But he also felt that he had never been more of useless and more of a burden than in the last two days. It was high time he changed that. He needed to get up, get some food and find them a hunt.

He was tempted to free Dean from his _duty_, but he had sworn to himself he'd never leave his brother again. So he would stay, living in close quarters with a man who would one day wake up and realize how much time he had wasted on him. The future seemed hopeless but Sam refused to wallow in sorrow a minute longer. He'd take every chance he got to make it up to Dean, and if the dreaded day still came, he'd accept it, knowing he had done his best to try to turn things around and gain a little of his brother's affection back.

* * *

Dean yawned as he stretched awake. He sat on the bed and watched Sam place a brown paper bag on the dining table. It was a nice sight to wake up to: Sam up and about after being on lockdown for two days, coming in with coffee, and probably sweet stuff to kick start the morning.

"Tell me there's a Danish somewhere in there."

"Yes, there is."

Dean stretched again and he headed to the bathroom for a quick shower. When he came out, Sam was on his lap top, doing what he did best. Dean noticed a bandage on his hand but he kept mum. He had used an inanimate object as a punching bag himself a few hours ago, so he could relate. He got dressed and attacked the sticky sugary pastry with enthusiasm.

"What you got there?" he asked when he was done slurping his coffee, even though he knew that Sam was doing research.

"I'm looking for a gig, or at least something worth checking out."

"Oh, I already got something. Pack your panties, Sammy, we're hittin' the road."

Sam looked surprised but he closed the laptop. Dean was already stuffing his clothes in his duffle so Sam quickly gathered all the items he had lying around. He didn't ask for precisions. Things were still strained and awkward between them, and they were far from that point where conversation flowed easy. He watched Dean throw a couple of bills on the broken table for reparation and head for the door.

"Let's go."

Sam followed, grateful his brother had spared him questions about his hand and the ruined piece of furniture. He was relieved to leave this town, this room in particular, even if he knew it was going to be a long trip, wherever they went. He only hoped that when they reached the destination, they would exit the car together.

_**Ch 4: Sweet Truth**_


	8. Ch4 Sweet Truths PI Welcome To Epiphany

**CHAPTER 4: Sweet Truth**

**Summary : **Dean has a plan and a surprise for Sam.

**PART I: Welcome To Epiphany**

Dean allowed himself to watch Sam for a moment. He was sleeping, exhausted after yet another nerve-racking night. In happier days, he would have tickled the tip of his brother's nose with a rolled up napkin, just to enjoy what he called the 'sleepy bitchface'. But after the stressful ride they had just experienced, igniting a prank war was the furthest thing from his mind. It had been a miserable trip; close to five hours of uncomfortable silence with tension hanging heavy over their heads like a cloud of acid ready to burst if one of them breathed too hard. Music failed to lighten the atmosphere and Dean had to bite his tongue to resist the urge to fire as barrage of questions at his copilot.

He had promised himself he would not get impatient like he tended to do when things got too emotional for his liking. The situation they were dealing _or rather, not dealing_ with, was too delicate for his usual no nonsense, in-your-face type approach. Added to that was the fact that the confined space of the Impala was just about the last place either of them wanted to have the deep conversation they had been avoiding.

Dean didn't realize Sam had finally woken up until his brother started fidgeting in his seat. He cleared his throat and grumbled, "Be right back."

Sam nodded and he stretched as much as the tight space allowed. He had said not two words during the whole ride, as if speaking would set off some grenade hidden under his seat. He checked his watch. Dean had mentioned the ride wouldn't exceed five hours. They should have arrived at their destination by now. He wanted to believe this was a hunt, only Dean always consulted with him before deciding they were taking a case. The fact that he too had remained silent only heightened Sam worries.

He could already see it: Dean dropping him off wherever they were going, giving him a fake credit card and a speech about how time apart would do them some good. Before his thoughts got get any darker, his brother appeared in his field of vision, all smug smile and macho strut. Sam's heart caught in his chest and he looked down at his lap.

* * *

Dean was satisfied that the place was everything he had hoped for and more. You never knew with the Internet: the chick's picture could be from three kids ago and the deluxe suite, a cockroach infested broom closet. His smile died on his lips and his heart constricted painfully in his chest when he noticed the way Sam has avoided his eyes. He hated seeing him behave like a shell of his former self, constantly embarrassed and like he wished to disappear in some dark hole whenever Dean so much as looked at him.

As he walked to the car with their room key in his pocket, he wondered if his plan, radical in the sense that it made it difficult for them to escape each other's company for a few days, wasn't just a terrible idea that would backfire and make everything worse ― if that was even possible.

He opened the car and gathered the snacks he had tossed on the back seat. He noticed that Sam was still carefully avoiding looking at him. He never asked where they were, where Dean had been and what he'd been doing there. Sighing, Dean shook his head: when Sam was the one who didn't want to talk, things had officially gone to hell.

"Get your stuff," he said before swinging the door shut.

Sam did what he was told. _Moment of truth, for better or worse_, he thought to himself. He followed Dean along a landscaped walkway leading to a beautiful two-story house. They followed the path to the front of the house and Sam wondered how he had ever missed the lake before remembering he had slept through the last stretch of the drive.

He looked up at the flowered balconies thinking the view must be breathtaking from there. He guessed this beautifully built waterfront paradise was some kind of luxury Bed & Breakfast or couples retreat. Far in a distance he could see leisure boats sailing into the horizon. Definitely not their kind of place. He furrowed his brow and looked at Dean.

"So… This place is haunted? Suspicious drownings in the lake? A pissed off water deity snacking on vacationers?"

"I sure hope not."

So it wasn't a hunt… Sam watched his last hopes vanish into thin air.

"Dean…?"

"Man, do you smell the fresh air!" Dean replied cheerfully.

Sam pinched his lips. Dean dancing around a question was never a good sign. Nevertheless, he followed him inside as he entered the main door. Dean kept walking and Sam followed as he bypassed the welcome desk, a spacious living room, two closed doors, one staircase, another staircase… Where the hell was he going?

"Dean, what is this?"

Dean stopped marching and showed him a key.

"Our home for the next three days! Room number five."

"I don't understand."

"You and I are taking ourselves a vacation."

Sam blinked. Of all the crazy hypotheses that were swirling around in his head...

"A vacation?"

"Yup."

Sam lowered his eyes with a sigh. Just when he had promised himself he would prove he was not some trauma patient that had to be waited on hand and foot.

"What now?" Dean asked, his temper flaring, annoyed that Sam always had to question everything.

"You shouldn't have" Sam said bleakly. "I know you think I'm a total basket case these days but you shouldn't have gone through all this trouble. I'll get it together, I promise. And besides, we can't afford this."

Dean's anger deflated.

"Sammy, I think you could use a little R n' R after what happened with the Shapeshifter. And to tell you the truth, I'm tired too. Why shouldn't we be allowed to take a break once in a while just like everybody else? And I already took care of everything. So are we going to stand here and argue, or are we going up to check out that room?"

Sam had a small smile. There was no point in arguing with Dean when he had made up his mind.

"Check out the room."

"Glad that's settled."

Dean walked past two other staircases and he took the last one. Sam followed him up a flight of return stairs that led to a single door. Dean used his key to unlock it and he pushed the door open. Sam made an appreciative grimace: definitely not their kind of place.

The sunbathed suite was spacious, beautifully furnished and tastefully decorated with paintings and expensive looking vases overflowing with fresh flowers. Sam dropped his bags and he walked to the big patio doors that led out to a private terrace overlooking the lake. The view every bit as was astonishing as he thought it would be, and everything was set up to ensure that the guests would enjoy it: from the table surrounded by two pillowed chairs to the huge hammock swinging in the wind.

He walked back inside the room to continue his inspection. There was only one bed, covered with a plush comforter and a bunch of matching pillows. It looked comfortable, inviting and definitely large enough for two people to sleep in without touching each other.

He pushed another door to discover the bathroom. Unlike too many he had encountered in their usual crap motels, the shower stall was definitely big enough for him to stand in without risking a head injury. And he could already picture Dean soaking in the corner tub, a skin magazine in one hand, while he made waves under water with the other. It was a classy place alright, with large fluffy towels and bathrobes hanging on shiny racks and fancy little soaps, lotions, bath gels and shampoos laid out on the counter.

"Look, Sammy. You can do those little hair flips you like."

Sam turned and he saw Dean point to the hairdryer with a wink. A small smile ghosted over his lips: he was already feeling better about this little vacation.

He continued to walk around the suite, exploring their living room, and the separate dining area near the small but well-equipped kitchen. He found another door that opened on an outside staircase. The stairs led down to a lush garden with wooden benches scattered under shady trees. He took a few steps down to make his most interesting discovery yet: a hot tub nestled in a glass-roofed gazebo.

Thoroughly impressed, he walked back into the bedroom, ready to elucidate one last mystery. He had been bewildered by what was laid out on the dresser next to the TV armoire. Hoping to find some kind of explanation for the bubbly wine and the chocolate dipped strawberries, he picked up the welcome card resting between the ice bucket and the champagne flutes, and read out loud:

Dear Mr. & Mr. Winchester,

We are pleased to welcome you to the Epiphany Bay House.

We hope you will find everything to your convenience.

Included in your Romance Package are:

Breakfast served in your room every morning,

One meal served in your room (please check our menu),

And one supper by the water at the Blue Island Restaurant.

Do not hesitate to call us for any special request.

We will do everything to ensure you have a pleasant and relaxing stay.

We hope you will enjoy many sunsets on our private pier!

Sam looked at his brother, feeling terribly awkward and a little terrified. He scratched his head, cleared his throat.

"Hum, Dean?"

Dean grabbed the fancy bowl of strawberries. He threw one in the air and caught it between his teeth.

"Hmm?

"You got us the… romance package?"

Dean looked perfectly natural as he explained, "I asked for the room with a bed big enough to fit Sasquatch. I guess this is it."

"Oh…"

Of course that's all it was.

Dean offered Sam a strawberry. He shook his head no.

"Uh-uh Sammy, I don't want no Grinch on my vacation. Think fast!"

He tossed the fruit in Sam's face. Sam's reflexes kicked in and he caught it in his mouth.

Looking very satisfied with himself when he saw his brother's jaws in motion, Dean turned the TV on and threw himself on the bed. Sam looked at him, noting that he was really going to work on the strawberries: licking around the chocolate covered tip and chewing it with a moan. His lips looked delicious, glistening with red juice and his fingers dipped in the bowl time and time again as his eyes remained fixed on the TV.

"What?" Dean asked when he realized Sam was staring. "Unlike you, I'm not on a diet, Frances."

Sam came back to earth. He wondered how he was supposed to do it. Share a bed with a guy who could drive him crazy doing the most innocent things. Share a bed with him in this intimate setting that had too much of a 'romantic getaway' feel to it.

"Dean, why did you pick this place? I mean I find it beautiful…"

"Thought you would. That's why I picked it."

"But this is so unlike the kind of places you usually go for."

Dean put a half bitten strawberry down, looking serious all of the sudden.

"Sammy, I think we need this. We need a change of scenery, we need some time off hunting, some time away from roach motels, and we need to make things right between us."

Sam lowered his head.

"We are going to have to talk at some point, Sam. Things are as weird as I want them to get."

Sam nodded. He was tired of all the tension too. And aside from the old secret he couldn't confess, he was ready to tell Dean everything. But before he could go there, he needed to get some air to gather his thoughts and turn the volume down in his overheated brain.

"I'd like to check out the place. It looks really nice," he said with a shy smile.

"Knock yourself out."

Sam's hand was on the door knob when Dean called around a mouthful of strawberry, "And Sam…"

"Yes, Dean?"

"You better come back soon or I'm ordering food without you. I'm starving man."

_Typical Dean, always hungry_. Sam shook his head and a bright smile graced his features. Dean stopped chewing at the sight of the holes that dug into his brother's cheeks. He had almost forgotten they were even there.

_**Part II – Together In This Haven Of Peace**_


	9. Ch4 Sweet Truths PII TITHOP

**CHAPTER 4: Sweet Truth**

**PART II: Together In This Haven Of Peace **

Dean was looking at the lake, leaning on the rail of the deck. He heard some noise coming from the room. Sam was back.

"So, how was it?"

"I met the innkeeper; Helena, very nice lady. She gave me a little tour."

Sam waived the maps and brochures he had picked up at the welcome desk.

"There are lots of interesting things to do around here."

"Well, let's start this afternoon."

"Okay."

There was a moment's silence and Dean watched Sam shift his weight from side to side, looking like he was fresh out of ideas about what to do or say.

Dean sighed. He sat on the bed his back turned to Sam.

"I'm sorry, Sammy."

He lied down, ankles crossed, his right arm folded over his forehead, his left hand resting on his stomach.

Sam toed his shoes off. He lied on his side, head resting on his fist and eyes fixed on his brother's profile.

"For what? You didn't do anything wrong."

Dean looked at him.

"I let it happen."

Sam started pulling and tugging at the bed spread.

"You didn't. I'm the one who fell into the trap. I walked in blindly, unprepared…"

"You thought it was me. The bastard had everything: my voice, my face, my clothes, hell, shocked even me."

"Dean… Even when I knew, I had a moment. I was fighting him, and I… I hesitated."

Sam shook his head at the admission of his own incompetence.

Dean rolled to his side, mirroring his position.

"He confused you, Sam, that's what they do. I'm sure he used everything he knew about me to mess with your head. Don't beat yourself up over that."

Sam exhaled, feeling a chip of his wall of guilt fall off. Dean put his hand over his, rescuing the poor bead spread from utter destruction. Sam smiled shakily, realizing the extent of his nervousness.

"Sammy, there's something I need to know. It's been haunting me since that day."

Sam croaked a small, "Yes?"

"Did he…?"

Dean exhaled and rubbed his eyes; he had such a hard time getting those words out, making them real.

"There was blood on the sheets, between your legs... "

"Dean, no."

Sam interrupted him before the words could come out of his mouth. He didn't know what to make of the answer. Was that: _Dean, no he didn't rape me_, or _Dean, no, don't go there_?

"Sam, look at me," he ordered.

When Sam didn't comply, Dean's face crumbled.

"I knew it. I was too late, I should have protected you."

Sam hated having to talk about sex with Dean's psychotic clone with the actual Dean, but he hated the pain he saw on his brother's face more. He looked straight in Dean's eyes and said, "You did protect me. He was going to. But he didn't, because you got there just in time."

"Swear that's the truth."

Sam's gaze didn't waiver.

"I swear. He cut me on the thigh. That's where the blood was dripping from."

Dean dropped on the bed flat on his back, covering his face with his palms feeling like he had just run a marathon and lightheaded with relief.

They were quiet for a moment as each tried to regain some composure then Sam asked, "Dean, did you ever wish you didn't have a brother?"

Dean turned to his side once again to look at Sam. His little Sammy. So big now, yet never enough that he would believe he didn't need his protection. His sweet little brother, from the chubby kid to the lean mean hunting machine, but beautiful at any stage. His giant pain in the ass, always bugging him to know how he was_ feeling_ about the littlest things;because even if Dean had grown up in a world that told him nobody cared, Sam did, so much. His little Sam, who had left him, and broken whatever growing up motherless and being John Winchester's soldier had left of his heart.

He had never responded to his apology. Now was his chance.

"When Mom brought you home, all pink and wrinkly…"

Sam chuckled.

"She said, this is Sam, your little brother. And I said _Dad told me this one_ I said, oh, so he's mine? He said Mom laughed and said yes. And that's how it's always been. You were mine Sam. To love, protect, tease, and take care of. Dad didn't need to tell me what my job was. And you were never a burden, Sammy. You got that?"

Sam bit his bottom lip and he nodded, knowing he had already lost the war against the tears that were gathering in his eyes. Hearing this felt like coming back to life, coming home.

Dean gently wiped Sam's wet cheeks with his thumbs and asked, "Did the Shifter say something to you?"

Sam went back to abusing the bed linen.

"He said deep down you hated me. Because I was a rotten, ungrateful little bastard who made your life hell then abandoned you after you had done everything for me. And even it cut like a knife, I'm glad he told me, because it's the truth. I was a poor excuse for a…"

"Stop it. That's him talking."

"No."

"He lied, okay? He lied. Why would I go looking for you at Stanford then?"

Sam had no answer.

"Because I wanted you with me!"

Dean shook Sam lightly, hoping to get through to him.

"I missed you and I wanted by my side, the way it was before."

Sam opened his mouth, but Dean wasn't done.

"It's true; it hurt like a bitch when you left. But I never hated you for it. And I still went to get you because I knew somewhere under all that anger you still cared about me."

"I never stopped. And I'll never leave again."

"I don't want you promising anything out of guilt, especially not this."

"I'm not. And I'm not asking you to believe it. I'll just have to prove it to you."

Dean paused for a moment. Then he rolled his eyes.

"God, we sound like chicks. When did this turn into _Steel Magnolias_?"

"Guess that's what the romance package will do to you."

Dean playfully kicked Sam in the calf. Sam laughed out loud until he noticed Dean was looking at him with something of awe.

"Dean, there's something else I want you to know."

"Hey! 'Tis the time to share and care."

"I know how it looked."

"How what looked?"

"How it looked when you opened the door."

Sam still felt a pang of shame. He was a Winchester. It didn't matter that he was trapped. Winchesters fought until the end. They didn't just lie down and take it. John them that only cowards surrendered to the enemy, and his sons weren't cowards.

"I'm not following."

"I wasn't fighting him, the Shapeshifter. I'm ashamed you saw that but I was trying…"

"Of course you weren't fighting. What were you supposed to do? He had you tied up six ways to Sunday. He had a knife he was itching to use on you. And knowing how those sons of bitches operate, he probably threatened to hurt me to keep you in line. So I know you were protecting me too."

Sam pressed the heel of his palm to his eyelids, practically dizzy with relief.

"I thought you might think…"

He was afraid he had lost Dean's respect. His brother's approval meant everything to him.

Dean couldn't believe his ears. Of all the things Sam was flogging himself over…

"Let me tell you how it looked, Sammy. I was going out of my mind out there. I felt like it took me a million years to untie myself so I could get to you. And I was afraid I would be too late. So when I opened that door, the only thing I saw was you, still breathing, determined and too damn stubborn to give up hope. That's how it looked to me."

Sam exhaled a smile.

"I can't even believe you were worried about that."

"I've been worried about a lot of things, Dean."

"I swear I wish I could kill him again!"

"You emptied a gun on him. I think that did it."

"Hey, are you going to be okay, sleeping next to me?"

"How much you bet I sleep better with my big brother close by?"

"Not much. I've seen how you react to me when you wake up."

"It's not like that, Dean. I'm not scared of you. It's just the nightmares."

"Yeah, the ones with my face in it?"

"I'm not afraid of you, Dean."

"If you say so."

"Only when you eat."

Dean smiled. _Yeah, maybe they were going to be okay._

But Sam knew him enough to tell his brother needed more convincing. And if they were going to be done with this, they needed to be done with all of it. So he described all his nightmares, omitting no detail however gory. And when he was done, Dean blurted. "That son of a bitch! I wish I could rip his lungs out."

Sam smiled tenderly and Dean cupped his cheek. He got serious for a moment. He didn't want any lingering fears, or doubts clouding Sam's eyes, so he tried to make it clear.

"Sammy, listen. And listen carefully 'cause I'm not saying it again unless one of us is about to die. I care about you and nothing's going to change that. I don't want you questioning this ever again. Nobody's taking me away from you. Nobody is taking you away from me. You're_ my _problem. And I like taking care of you…"

Sam's eyes widened.

"…And if you ever throw that in my face, I will leave you on the side of the road and never look back."

Sam laughed.

"Okay."

Dean rolled his eyes and he mumbled, "All that brain you'd think he'd know that by now."

"Dean, I…"

"Yeah. Me too, bitch."

At this moment their love for each other was so palpable, it didn't required any words. But Sam still needed to offer a gesture, so he turned his face and planted a kiss in the palm that was warming his cheek. It meant _thank you, and I love you, even if you won't let me say it. _

Dean moved closer so he could press Sam against his chest. In response, Sam surrounded his waist, squeezing the air out of him, gripping like he was never going to let go. They stayed like that for a couple of seconds until Dean asked, "Sammy, we good?"

"Yeah, we're good. Really good."

Dean turned away. He caught the blinding smile his willingness to go deep into chick flick mode had earned him and he rubbed his eyes. Sure, it felt damn good to finally let it all out but he was going to end up liquefying like a burning candle if he didn't put a stop to all the whispering and handholding.

So he loudly slapped his thigh to snap them both out of this sappy mood and said, "Good talk. Now let's get some food up in here, I'm starving!"

Sam realized how good his brother was at that. It wasn't only about running away from emotion, because Dean always ended up spilling his soul when he was good and ready. It was about keeping things manageable and comfortable when they got too intense and too complicated. He wanted to lunge forward and engulf his brother in a hug once again because he didn't have enough yet, but he knew Dean's 'chick flick moment' quota was probably exceeded for the whole year. So instead, he got up and picked up the menu that was on the desk.

"Let me see."

Sam looked at Dean's wiggling fingers and shook his head no.

"I got it. I know it makes you all tingly when I take control."

Dean looked at Sam's grin and he felt relieved to see him back to his usual self.

"Okay." he said. "But I'll put a hex your ass if you order me some tofu." Then he grabbed the remote and started channel surfing. "They have a kick ass movie selection. We should order one tonight."

"You should pick it. Because you always fall asleep when _I_ order the movie. Can't be porn though."

"Grinch."

Sam smiled at his brother's sulky tone and he dialed the reception.

* * *

Half an hour later, Sam responded to a knock on their door. He carried the platter to the bed while Dean cheerfully poured chilled bubbly in their flutes. Then they sat cross-legged on their huge bed and toasted to all the good times they were planning on having. They ate in front of the TV like they used to the on the weekends when Dad was away, and talked about what they wanted to do in the afternoon.

"Mmh…"

Sam rolled his eyes for the third time, hiding a fond smile by taking another bite of his sandwich. Judging by the blissful grunts Dean kept peppering their conversation with; he was loving the plate of heart attack Sam had ordered for him. And he was inhaling the juicy cheeseburger with extra onions and side of fries like a human vacuum. Soon he was moving in on the slice of blueberry pie while Sam was still working on his club sandwich.

"You need help with that, Frances?"

Sam slapped his hand away from his plate, but not in time to save the bite his brother snaked from him.

"Stay outta my plate, Anteus."

"Who?"

"It's a mythical ogre, from North Afri…"

"Ogre like Shrek?"

"…I guess…"

"Please, I'm way too hot to be compared to Shrek."

Sam unleashed the bitchface and he dipped his forefinger in the filling of Dean's pie. It was a more effective way to punish him for being obnoxious than any verbal tirade he could come up with.

"What the…?"

Dean gave Sam a murderous look but he flinched at the sight of Sam sucking the filling off his finger. He turned away, mumbling.

"You're lucky I'm in a good mood. I'll let it slide this time."

Sam pulled his finger out of his mouth with a faint pop, slightly surprised. He wasn't sure why Dean had surrendered without a fight, but he cheerfully kept score in his head: Sam: 1, Dean, 0.

* * *

They took the Impala, and spent the afternoon visiting their new town. It was the first time in a long time that they got to do anything that wasn't related to a case. They drove and strolled around town without any purpose other than to entertain themselves.

Later they explored the marina, spending hours walking along lively cafés, restaurants, and bars, dipping in an out of the small shops and galleries that surrounded the marina waters. On Helena's recommendation, they also visited the floating store, a local attraction, and the town's historic museum.

They took a break to soak up the sights and sounds, sitting on a bench with a cold drink. Then they followed the map to the Old Town for more sightseeing. Around 7 they started getting tired and hungry so they made their way back to the marina. Sam chose a quiet little restaurant with a patio where they could dine while watching leisure boats come and go.

Sam put his fork down feeling more than pleasantly full. Dean was looking with melancholy at the empty plate that used to house a slice of warm apple pie topped with a fresh scoop of vanilla ice cream. Sam smiled at the sight and he pushed what was left of his cheese cake toward Dean.

"I'd like to come back to the Old Town," he said.

Dean smiled at him and he stabbed into the piece of cake with his fork.

"Sure, it was fun and there's plenty more to see."

"Yeah. I'd like to check out the market too."

"We'll come back tomorrow then. I think it opens on Wednesdays."

Sam nodded. He had spotted a second-hand book shop that doubled as a café that he really wanted to spend some time there.

"I saw this bookshop…"

"Sammy, rule number one!"

"I know! We agreed: no research. I just want to check out some… non-work related books."

"Mmh." Dean's fork rang loudly on the now empty plate. "What do you want to do now?"

Sam wanted go back to their suite, curl up under the covers and watch a movie. He remembered how much he loved those nights alone in their rented house when he would put his head on Dean's shoulder and think about anything but the images flashing before their eyes. But after a day filled with art, history and old architecture, he wanted Dean to have a good time too. He tried to sound genuinely interested when he suggested,"We could go to a bar."

Dean thought about it for a moment. After spending a better afternoon than he had ever imagined possible after the horrible trip they had had, he really wasn't interested in ending the day in some dive flirting with some bar chick out of habit while Sam sat in a corner, pretending to enjoy himself. He wanted to go back to their sweet little digs, test the whirlpool bath, watch a movie with Sammy and relax in their cushy bed.

"Or we could go watch that movie."

"I'd like that."

Sam enthusiastic smile made Dean feel all warm inside. He hailed the waiter for the bill, thinking that a day ago, his brother would have probably rather jump in the lake.

* * *

Sprawled in a cross over the bed, Sam stretched his arms and legs and sighed contentedly. He felt great and he was looking forward to his first movie night with Dean in years. He couldn't ask for a nicer ending to his day. Things would be a hell of a lot nicer however if Princess Deana finally decided to grace him with her presence. This was one long beauty bath. He had a more of body and hair to wash than Dean and he still managed to make it out of the shower under twenty minutes. Okay, even that was a lot, but the bath gel felt like silk on his skin, and the shower was huge and the hot water never ran out, and dammit what was Dean still doing in there, drowning in the water?

"Deeaan!"

The bathroom door opened and Dean peeked his head out. He had a silly little foamy Mohawk on top of his head and he looked worried.

"Sammy, you okay?"

"How much longer are you going to be in there? I'm starting to wonder what you're doing to yourself."

"Why, you wanna join me?"

They looked at each other in complete silence, then Dean made a hasty retreat behind the door and mumbled,

"Almost done."

Sam folded his arm over his eyes, trying to block images of all the things they could do to each other in soapy water. Dean finally emerged from the misty bathroom. They rearranged the pillows so they could lean against them comfortably and sat close in the middle of the large bed. Dean selected the movie. They were all set and ready to go when he got up again.

"Oh, what now?" Sam whined.

"Forgot something."

Sam's eyes followed Dean as he disappeared in the dining and kitchen area. He heard him rummage through God knew what before reappearing with a half-open bag of M&M's. He watched speechless as Dean sat on the bed, confirmed his order on the TV menu and started popping in the little chocolate balls one by one.

"Dude, are you serious?"

"Rule number two, Sammy: no bitching on my vacation."

Dean popped another M&M.

"I can't believe you're still hungry."

"That's two. Three strikes and you're out."

"You know you're going to get sick. And I'm the one who has to sleep next to you."

Sam yanked the bag of chocolate away.

"That's it!" Dean grab Sam's arm and they ended up wrestling playfully until he had Sam in a headlock. "Give it back."

Sam surrendered the goodies.

Dean leaned back, picked up the remote and said, "Now shut up and watch the movie."

Sam muttered under his breath, "Bossy."

"What?"

"Nothing."

"That's what I thought."

Sam elbowed Dean in the ribs and decided they were even. His brother's arm was still around his neck so he leaned into it using Dean's shoulder as a pillow.

"If you fall asleep and drool on my shirt I'll kick your ass."

"Jerk."

"Bitch… Sam?"

"Yes, Dean?" the younger Winchester replied with feigned lassitude.

"Dude, you weigh a ton."

"You know what I realize about you? The reason why you're always bugging me is 'cause you can't get enough of me."

Dean snorted.

"Bitch, you wish."

Sam moved around to make himself more comfortable on Dean's shoulder. He flung his hair, slapping his brother in the process for good measure. Dean scrunched his nose, pushed the stray strands that tickled his face away and started petting Sam's hair like he used to do to get out of arguments or to shut him up. It worked where everything else failed, and Dean liked to think it was the easiest way to 'get the bitch out of Sammy'. It pacified him and turned him into a purring cat.

Sam let out a small moan as fingers gently scratched his scalp. Dean was shamelessly taking advantage of his weakness. But it had been so long, and he really liked it, so he just leaned into the caress and soaked in the moment. He could hardly believe how miserable he felt only a few hours ago. He now felt drained clean of all the ugliness that had been festering inside of him, and he blissfully eased back into the kind of closeness they had lost after he had left for Stanford.

Neither of them felt sleepy after the movie so they watched some more TV, spread lazily on their bed, talking about this and that. Then Sam grew quiet and Dean worried his brother was having unhappy thoughts again. He grazed his cheek with his knuckles.

"Everything okay?"

Sam nodded. He took Dean's hand which was resting on his chest and intertwined their fingers.

"Dean, I really like it here. I like this."

Dean's throat closed up and he just stared as Sam explored the palm of his hand and the lines of his fingers as if the greatest mysteries of life hid in them. The innocent caresses made him yearn for more. He fought the desire to just lean in and steal a kiss. He scratched his throat. Sam looked at him, puppy dog eyes full of questions and he went back to toying with his fingers.

"What about you?" Sam finally asked. "Are you enjoying yourself? I know how you said you wanted to be here too, and…"

Sam knew he was babbling like an idiot so he took a breath and tried to make more sense.

"You said you did this for us but I know it's more for me. And I'm grateful. I really am. I want to be sure that..."

Sam sighed.

"Dean, do you like it here? Because I really do feel better now if you want to cut this short."

"Sam, would you stop thinking you're giving me a headache. I am enjoying myself. I did this for both of us. And yes, I like it here. And even if I didn't, we're together aren't we? That's all that matters to me… And I really like this."

Sam looked at Dean, a question mark in his eyes. Dean had touched his cheek.

"What do you mean, this?" Sam asked, not understanding.

"This," Dean repeated, pressing his thumb a little harder on Sam's cheek.

More lost than ever, Sam knitted his brow. A mischievous smile floating on his lips, Dean slipped his free hand under Sam's t-shirt and tickled his side. Laughing, Sam arched his body away. Without letting go of him, Dean pressed on his brother's dimple for the third time.

"This. This little thing that happens when you smile." Dean finally explained. "I kinda hate it when it goes away."

Sam looked away, thankful that the bluish light coming from the TV was probably not bright enough for Dean to notice the tomato his face had turned into. Unable to say anything for fear of blurting out something embarrassing that would ruin everything, he simply turned his body toward Dean's and his wrapped his arm around his brother's waist. They stayed in a comfortable silence, TV forgotten, still on, creating a soothing halo. When Dean noticed that Sam's breathing was evening out, he asked softly, "Sam, are you sleeping?"

He got no response so he placed a feather-like kiss on his brother temple and whispered, "'Night, babe."

Dean went back to flipping the channels but nothing really caught his interest. He thought of ordering another movie, maybe some Casa Erotica, but then he looked at Sam and decided it would be a bad idea, considering the most tempting being in the entire Creation was pressed against him and blowing on his neck. Like he needed any more stimulation…

He yawned and wondered if should move Sam a little so they could slip under the covers. Furthermore, his arm was falling asleep. But Sam looked so serene in slumber he didn't want to do anything to disturb him. So he sucked it up, numb arm and all and listened to Sam breathe, relishing the feel of his warm body pressed against his. He quickly fell asleep and only woke when the sun was struggling to pierce through the thick curtains he had drawn the night before.

* * *

Sam rolled around until his face was buried in Dean's pillows. He could hear Dean walking around in the room, and something smelled really good. He stretched on the bed and smiled, remembering the day before. His daydreaming was interrupted when his brother roughly spanked his ass with a pillow.

"Rise and shine, Sammy!"

Sam turned to look at him. What he saw woke him up completely and he chuckled.

"What?" Dean asked.

Sam looked at him from head to toe. His brother looks so cuddly he had to remind himself that how deadly he could be with a weapon. At least he didn't have a stupid towel wrapped around his head this time.

"Ah, the robe. Yeah, makes me feel _vacation-y_. Come on get your ass up."

Sam complied. He brushed his teeth, splashed his face with water and joined Dean on the patio for breakfast. They had scrambled eggs, pancakes, potatoes, bacon, orange juice and coffee. He sat down, poured some cream and added sugar to his coffee.

"How did you sleep?" Dean asked chewing his bacon.

"Very well."

"What can I say? I have that effect on people." Dean replied smugly.

"Bite me."

"I'll stick to bacon, for now."

Dean waggled his eyebrows.

"So… was she hot?"

"What are you talking about?"

Dean drowned what was left of his first pancake in syrup. Then he shoved it in his mouth, sucking in the sticky liquid with a slurping sound and lapping it on his lips.

"You, my brother, had a naughty dream…"

Sam dropped his fork and squeaked, "Really?"

Sam looked horrified, and Dean knew that he should drop it, what with Sam being a prude about these things but he couldn't resist. Plus he had to make him pay for the emotional damage of waking up to his little brother rubbing his morning wood against his leg.

"Uh huh… Pretty vivid too. You were making some serious happy noises."

Sam stared at Dean, hoping his brother was just yanking his chain, even if it was way too early for this crap.

"No need to be uptight about it, Sammy. And if you ask me, beats the hell out of gory nightmares."

"Did…Did I say anything?"

Sam searched his brother's eyes again. Dean kept on shoveling down his eggs, looking unconcerned, and Sam could tell nothing had happened to make him twice about Sam's dirty little wet dream.

"No, why?"

Relieved, Sam said, "Nothing just asking."

"Whatever, Romeo. So what are we doing today?"

Sam went to grab the brochures in the room. He sat back on his chair and started sharing ideas in between mouthfuls.

"Hiking?"

"Did enough of that tracking that Wendigo."

"You're right. We'll find our way to some woods soon enough. Maybe we could go biking? I don't know, I always feel clumsy on those things. Hey, they have a golf club."

"Hell no. Bunch of stuck up bastards…"

"Okay. Bird watching?"

"Now you're just trying to piss me off."

Sam smiled and he chewed on a potato.

"Yeah. Listen, I know you'll like this: waterskiing."

"I'm game."

"And says here we can take Jet Ski rides…"

"That's more like it. We're in a lake town. Let's do water stuff!"

"Nautical sports." Sam corrected.

"Geek."

"Dropout. Hey, we can also take a boat tour. There's a departure at 4:30. I'll call to make sure."

"Check for the other stuff too."

"I will. We can go back to the Old Town after. The market is open until 9."

"Sure."

When they were finished eating, Sam made a few phone calls, then they left for their morning of "nautical" fun.

_**Part III – The Burning Flame Of The Steamiest Secret**_


	10. Ch4 Sweet Truths PIII TBFOTSS

**CHAPTER 4: Sweet Truth**

**PART III : The Burning Flame of the Steamiest Secret**

Sam walked into the cafe. He spotted the Helena behind the counter and went to have a little chat. She asked if he and his partner liked their room and if they were enjoying their stay. She recommended a few options for lunch, took his order and handed him a drink.

Sam chose a nice table for two with great view of the lake. They had time to kill between the morning activities and the afternoon plans, and they had decided to come back and hang out at the Bed & Breakfast.

"Hi."

Sam looked up and saw a guy smiling at him.

"Hi." he replied politely.

"My name is Alex. I'm in room 3."

The guy seemed nice enough and Sam was nothing if not courteous.

"Hi, Alex. I'm Sam."

Alex sat in front of him.

"You're here with someone?"

"My brother."

"Mm. I'm here alone. How do you like it?"

"It's really nice: beautiful place, plenty of things to do. And the people here are friendly."

"Yeah, Helena and her husband Billy are family friends. I've been coming here once a year since the age of fourteen. Are you here for a while?"

"Couple of days."

"Well since you're here tonight, there's a great party at one of my friend's house. You're invited."

Alex fished out a pen and started writing on a napkin that he later handed to Sam.

"Thanks."

They kept chatting and Alex recommended a few places to visit that were unknown to tourists. He was talkative and he helped Sam pass the time while he waited. Helena came by their table to give Alex a drink as she knew all of regulars' favorites. The colorful cocktail was a local drink and Alex handed it to Sam so he could give it try.

"Not bad." Sam said.

"Told you… Hey, you must be the brother!"

"In the flesh. You're in my seat."

Dean's tone was curt and Alex took the hint. He quickly got up and stepped away from the table.

"Sorry, man. And Sam, really nice meeting you. See you tonight…" he said before leaving with his drink.

Sam waived.

"I can't leave you for two minutes. Who's that guy?"

"He's has a room here. He's a friend of Helena's. He comes here every…"

They were interrupted by the waitress bringing their plates. Sam should have known something was wrong when Dean didn't acknowledge the pretty little blonde. He chalked it to his brother being seriously hungry. But then he noticed that his brother's movements were sharp and his face, hard. Dean ate in silence, faster than usual and seemingly taking little pleasure in it, which was another cause for alarm. He discouraged Sam's attempts at a conversation with monosyllabic replies and grunts.

Sam no longer doubted that Dean was mad at him. Only, he didn't know why. They had a great morning, and the most fun they had had in a long time. What could have happened since to sour Dean's mood?

"Can I get you some dessert?"

"Thank you sweetheart, I'm finished."

And just like that Dean was on his feet.

"Dean?"

His brother had ignored the cute waitress, passed on the opportunity of pies and now he was ditching him?

"Tired. Gonna take a nap. Stay here if you want."

Sam got up to leave with him but his brother's angry stride warned him that he didn't want to be followed. And there was also the poor waitress, dancing on her feet, looking like she wanted to be somewhere else.

"Oh. I'm sorry."

He sat down, took the dessert card and offered his most reassuring smile.

* * *

Sam opened the door. His brother was on the bed, watching TV. Sam sat on his side of the bed but after a minute of being ignored, he got up to turn the TV off.

"What the hell, Sam!"

"What's wrong with you, Dean?"

Dean, who had the remote in his hands, turned the TV back on. Sam sighed.

"Why are you pissed at me?"

No answer. Not even a look.

"You're being a jerk, you know."

Dean shrugged and turned the volume up. Losing patience, Sam took the remote, pressed the off button and tossed it on the floor.

"Will you please just tell me what's going on?"

"What is this, another hug to heart?"

Sam watched as the walls came up. The complicity they had shared seemed to slip away. But he wouldn't let it. He wasn't going back.

"I just wish you talked to me, Dean… I'm not gonna drop it."

Again, silence… And out of the blue it started to made sense. Alex.

"God, Dean, I was just talking to the guy!"

"Oh, would you please save the act? He was flirting with you and you know it."

"Excuse me?"

"So you're meeting him tonight?"

"Who said I..?"

"You know what he only wants one thing. I can't believe you're gonna hook up with some guy you barely know…"

"Oh, this is rich coming from Mister I-will-screw-anything-in-a-skirt! And it's not even like that. We were just having a _friendly_ conversation. If you think every guy who takes the time to talk to someone is out to sleep with them, you're projecting!"

The condescending snort Dean gave in reply response pushed Sam over the edge.

"You know what, Dean? Screw you."

"Oh yeah? Screw you too, Sam!"

Sam shook his head. He should have been angry but all he felt was disappointment and sadness. Why was Dean going out of his way to ruin everything? As he looked at his brother he remembered something. A couple of years ago, a seedy bar, and Dean, so angry. Because Sam had left without a word and gotten hammered in some sleazy bar. But mostly, because he had let someone put their hands on him. And it didn't matter to Dean that he had been doing much worse himself that very day. To him, the bottom line had always been that, unlike himself, Sammy was a gem nobody was worthy of. Sam had failed to see it then, but he finally understood what Dean's reaction had really been about all along.

Tuning out the warning voice which reminded him that Dean's tongue was at its sharpest when he felt cornered, he stared at his brother, seemingly calmly even though his heart was beating a thousand drums in his chest. _Could it be?_ he prayed. _Please God let it be_...

"Stop it, weirdo."

Sam didn't move a muscle. He didn't have to wait long before his brother got uncomfortable and let out an exasperated, "What?"

Sam replied softly, unfazed by the outburst.

"If I didn't know better, Dean, I'd say you're jealous."

Dean rolled his eyes as if he had never heard anything more ridiculous in his life; yet, he turned away from Sam's prying gaze.

Sam brushed two fingers over his brother's chin, gently turning Dean's face toward him.

"You have absolutely no reason to be."

The words were simple; powerful; and they meant everything. And Sam watched the fortress tumble down; tense shoulders slumping slightly, green eyes softening as they looked down, and it gave him all the courage he needed. He got closer and placed a kiss on his brother's lips.

Then he closed his eyes, suddenly afraid that maybe he had read this all wrong; and he waited for the punch that no doubt was coming; now, or maybe now… or maybe not. He opened his eyes and saw Dean, slacked mouthed and glassy-eyed, clearly still in shock.

Sam turned away, feeling Dean's gaze on his back as he reached for a box on his nightstand. He opened it, grabbed the spoon that was inside and turned toward Dean.

"You left without dessert."

Needing a moment to regain his composure, Sam took a spoonful of pie and shoved it in his mouth. Then he took another one and he raised it to Dean's mouth, finally mustering the courage to look at his brother again. The full lips parted and Dean allowed himself to be spoon-fed.

Sam thanked his lucky star when the content of the spoon wasn't thrown back in his face. He took another spoonful for himself and fed the other to his brother. The exchange was quiet and almost unbearably intimate. It felt like a prelude to something more, and neither dared do anything to break the spell as Sam repeated his gestures until the box was empty.

He walked to the small kitchen, feeling like he was walking through molasses the whole time, and got them a glass of water to wash it down although he would have liked something stronger. He sat next to his brother, who still looked like he was processing the information in slow motion, emptied half the glass and handed the rest to Dean. He watched as the liquid made its way down his brother throat, hypnotized by the bobbing of his Adam's apple.

When Dean put the glass on his nightstand, the clanking noise snapped Sam back into reality. He met Dean's eyes and waited, a little apprehensive.

"Thanks…for the pie."

"Don't mention it," Sam whispered, his stomach in knots.

"That was an… awesome pie."

Sam lowered his head and bit his lip. He heard the sheets rustle as Dean moved closer. His heart was beating so fast he barely heard Dean when he said, "You've got something, here."

Sam started rubbing his cheeks. He was usually a neat eater. Dean was the one who got crumbs, gravy and syrup everywhere.

Dean took Sam's wrists in his hands and whispered. "Let me…"

"Dea …"

The words died in Sam's throat as his brother invaded his space. He closed his eyes, inhaled Dean's scent and felt his breath ghost over his cheek. Dean's tongue tickled the corner of his lips, slid between them and started drawing slow circles around the tip of his tongue. Sam let out a tiny moan that was quickly smothered with a deep kiss. Dean pulled back after a while. They lost themselves in each other eyes, breathing each other's air and he covered Sam's mouth with his again, placing a dozen of kisses, teasing and light as butterfly wings on his lips. He freed Sam's wrists and traced the outline of his brother's mouth with his thumb. Sam gazed at him through heavy-lidded eyes and flicked his tongue over the digit.

Dean couldn't resist the invitation in his brother's eyes, an invitation he realized had always been there. He pressed his lips to Sam's; nipping, biting, tasting; swirling his tongue around and exploring the wet folds of his little brother's mouth.

Sam closed his eyes and he let himself go, opening up under his brother's probing kisses. His fingers fluttered along Dean's ribs, flattened across his chest and curled behind his neck to pull him a little closer.

Dean kept devouring the soft lips as he pushed Sam down until he was lying on his back. Finally allowing Sam a moment to breathe, he scattered kisses all over his neck. Panting softly, Sam bared his throat, threw his arms beside his head and splayed his legs wider, offering himself and letting Dean know he wanted more.

Dean bit into the sensitive flesh in response. The way his brother reacted to his touch made his blood boil with lust. He wanted to give Sam more. He wanted to give him everything. When he took his lips again, it was with renewed intensity. They drank each other in, their tongues wrestling, thirsty for each other like flowers in a rainless desert.

It was everything Sam had been waiting for, and he gave as good as he got. He pulled Dean's t-shirt up, looking for more skin to touch. One hand moved up and down Dean's back while the other slid under the waist of his jeans. Their kisses became more passionate, and as fever rose, clothes became an obstacle to be eliminated.

Breaking the kiss with a wet sucking noise, Sam pushed Dean back, just long enough to get rid of his top and to pull his brother's t-shirt off. He threw their clothes in a heap on the floor and they fell back onto the bed, kissing, their naked torsos pressed together.

One hand curled around the hollow of Sam's waist, Dean traced a path of kisses on his brother's chest down to the small bud that quickly hardened in his mouth. Sam threw his head back with a moan. He gripped the short hair at the nape of Dean's neck, squirming as he suckled one nipple then the other. When he couldn't take any more of the sweet torture, he cupped his brother's face and pulled him up to taste those full lips again.

Sam snaked a palm down Dean's stomach and inside his pants. When he failed to reach his goal, he pushed his brother to the side and jerked the button with clumsy fingers until he popped it open. He then slid his hand over the burning skin and closed it over the swollen bulge. They moaned in each other's mouths and Dean slid his palm in Sam's back pocket, massaging the firm globe of flesh as they kissed, pressed tightly against each other. He unzipped Sam's jeans, and they helped each other out of what was left of their clothing.

Naked, they held each other close, rubbing their bodies against each other until Dean rolled them around to take back his place on top of Sam. He looked at him, searching for the answers to unasked questions on his face. Sam held his gaze, unflinching, his eyes expressing all the things he had never dared to say before.

Dean twirled a lock of brown hair around his thumb. Sam. His one treasure, the one thing in his life that was pure and good. It was overwhelming, all the things he felt when he looked at him; especially when his brother was looking back with eyes that said, _take me, I'm yours._

But Dean didn't want to take any risks. He had lost Sam once, and he wasn't doing anything to risk losing him again. When they were like this, set ablaze with desire and drunk on love, it was easy to forget how incredibly fragile things were between them just a day ago. And maybe they still were? Dean loved Sam like he did no one else. He wanted him so bad he could taste it. But he would still dig up the strength to back away if this wasn't what Sam really wanted.

"Dean, don't stop."

"Sam, I gotta ask…"

"Yes."

Dean smiled.

"You don't even know what I'm going to ask."

"It doesn't matter. My answer is yes."

Sam pinched his butt and he rolled his hips against him. His doubts forgotten, Dean mirrored Sam's actions by grinding into him. Sam hissed and he dug his fingers into Dean's flesh. They were both so hard; it wouldn't take a lot for them to climax all over each other like sex-starved teenagers.

But Dean didn't want it to be over before it started. He wanted to take his time, kiss Sam some more, hold him, and make him feel good; allow them both time to enjoy it, and make it worth remembering. He ground between his brother's legs, slowly, like they had all the time in the world, like he intended to drag it out for hours.

He brushed his lips over Sam's throat and licked the smooth column of flesh up to his ear. He was quickly learning what Sam liked and he was rewarded with a small gasp when he gently sucked the earlobe into his mouth.

Sam looked down at the space where their bodies were meeting and gliding against each other, hot, hard and slick with pre-cum. His eyes scrunch shut and he bit his lips, swallowing a whimper. Sweet agony, it felt so good and the slow pace was killing him, Dean was killing him.

Dean thrust a little harder, still not rushing, never breaking the rhythm he knew was slowly driving Sam mad, driving both of them mad. But it felt incredible, rocking against each other to this sensual rhythm that kept them dangling over the edge. Pleasure was building, growing more intense with each thrust, and trying to delay it felt like resisting a tornado.

"Dean! Faster!"

Dean felt a shiver run through his body. Sam was scraping his nails down his back in a way that made his spine tingle, and making those little noises that went straight to his dick. He finally broke and slammed his body hard into Sam's. They started moving together faster, matching each other thrust for thrust, kissing and moaning as they raced to the end, desperate for completion.

Soon pleasure burst inside of their bodies, sending them flying high. They remained suspended mid-air for a few seconds before crashing like the tide against rocks and washing ashore, wet and broken. They gradually slipped back into their bodies and into consciousness, breathing harshly, shaking a little and clinging to each other with what little strength they had left.

Dean rolled on his back, pulling Sam to his side. They exchanged a few kisses and closed their eyes, waiting for their breathing to return to normal. Dean reopened his eyes after a moment of silence and he wondered if Sam was sleeping.

"Babe?" he called.

Sam's eyes fluttered open but he quickly lowered them. Dean furrowed his brow, worried that his naughty little brother's sudden reserve foretold of all less than pleasurable talks and meltdowns to come. But the smile that struggled to stretch Sam's lips and the pink that stained his cheeks quickly reassured him. Better, they turned his 'obnoxious big brother' mode back on and he smiled, feeling mischievous as he let his ingrained habit of tormenting little Sammy take over. He leaned close and said, in that tone that only meant trouble for Sam, "Baby?"

The corners of Sam's lips twitched. And he looked so adorable Dean just wanted to throw him on his back and have a go at it for another round.

"Sammy baby, look at me."

"God, Dean, quit it!"

"You blush a whole lot, Sammy. Kinda like a girl."

"Bite me."

Dean placed his mouth over Sam's nipple and did just that.

"I like that, making you blush."

"Jerk," Sam replied, his voice trembling a little.

"Baby."

"Freckles."

"Yeah, this isn't funny anymore."

Sam chuckled. Dean had never been a gracious loser, but he was in too good a mood to call him out and bitch about it. He sighed happily and ran the tip of his fingers over Dean's chest.

"So… I should make you jealous more often."

"Nope. That stuff only happens when I'm fed pie with a kiss."

"All those times I just gave you the stupid pie, I was doing it all wrong…"

"You live and you learn…" Dean crooned seductively, leaning for a kiss.

Sam smiled, then he jumped just as Dean's lips were going to brush against his.

"We're gonna miss the boat!"

"What?"

"The tour. I have the whole afternoon mapped out, and we can't miss the boat. Come on!"

"Aw, do we have to?"

Sam rolled out of the bed and he scratched the dried come that made his skin itch around the navel.

"Rule number two," he shouted from the open bathroom. "No bitching during my vacation. Move your butt, lazy!"

Getting up with many unhappy grunts, Dean grumbled, "Lazy. I did all the friggin' work."

But his discontentment evaporated as soon as he saw Sam inside the shower, dripping with soap and crooking a finger at him.

* * *

"Whenever you're ready, Dean!"

Dean picked up the pace. He slipped into his swimming trunks and threw the bathrobes over his shoulder. The vacation tyrant_ his new pet name for Sammy_, was cracking the whip again. Not that he minded, especially since he got to see if brother happy and excited again, flashing those lethal dimples left and right.

He remembered him on the boat, his hair in his face, smile so bright as he dragged Dean to the upper deck because the view was more _"picturesque"_ from the top. After that, Dean was ready to follow wherever Sam led to keep that smile on his face. He had to admit the afternoon his brother had carefully mapped out turned out pretty awesome too.

The stupid little cruise that pulled them out of bed in the midst of post climax euphoria was almost worth the sacrifice. The weekly market didn't totally suck either. He expected to be bored to tears by rows upon rows of regular boring market stuff. But instead they had found a bunch of colorful shops and stands with tons of local curiosities, old books that had Sam 'geekgasming' all over the place and mouth-watering local delicacies Dean had to be pried away from with threats of PDA so he wouldn't eat himself into a tummy ache. Later they had diner in a charming little restaurant in the Old Town plaza. After the drive home, they had decided to take a dip in the hot tub before calling it a night.

Dean walked out the back door, went down the stairs and walked toward the small garden house.

Sam was leaning back, staring up at the dark sky spread out above the glass roof. He arched his back, delighting in the soothing sensation from the hot water battering away the aches in his lower spine. He smiled when he saw Dean enter the tranquil oasis. His brother sat on the edge of the tub next to him. He soaked his feet first to test the temperature then let himself slide in the hot water, moaning as it surrounded him, relaxing his muscles instantly.

"This is amazing," Sam said.

Dean put the sole of one foot over a jet, wiggled his toes and replied, "Yeah it's not bad."

"I don't mean this. Well, this is nice too. I mean _everything_. Thanks, Dean."

Dean splashed Sam's face with water, a predatory grin on his face.

"Talk is cheap little brother," he teased.

Sam pulled him in for a kiss for a more appropriate thank you. Then he asked, "Could we maybe come back sometime?"

"Let's do this again in six months. Hey, we'll even pick a new place, your choice."

Sam was a bit surprised. He didn't expect it to be so easy. "You're actually up for this."

"Are you kidding me? Who wouldn't want to replicate this little vacation?"

Dean waggled his eyebrows and he stuck his tongue out to lick Sam's bottom lip.

"Hey, Dean, I'd like to know…"

"Come on, Sam. We got the water, the bubbles, the fancy candles, the friggin' sky above our heads..."

"_Do you really want to have a serious conversation in a hot tub?" _

Sam didn't need to hear the rest of the sentence to know what Dean wanted to say. His brother had been unusually cooperative with the sharing and caring lately. Sam decided that he should know when to give it rest if he didn't want to mess a good thing up.

He cringed. "Sorry, you're right." and quickly pressed his lips over Dean's.

Dean responded to the kiss then he pushed him back. His knee-jerk reaction to the threat another 'talk' had more to do with the force of habit more than it did an actual reluctance to hear what Sam had to say. The whole point of this trip had been to get Sam to a place where he would feel safe enough to open up. And although it hadn't been easy, it had brought them much more then he could have ever predicted. So he hooked a finger under Sam's chin and asked, "What do you have in mind?"

"Nothing important, it can wait."

"I'm all ears, Sammy."

Dean dodged the kiss Sam was trying to give instead of replying.

"Don't make me get Mister Spider," he threatened.

Sam huffed, unimpressed. He couldn't believe that Dean thought bringing up one of his childhood terrors was going to accomplish anything. Besides, Dean had stopped using Mister Spider on him when Sam had become a teenager, and the tickling had gone from harmless fun to something vaguely inappropriate, overly stimulating and disturbingly pleasurable overnight.

"I'm shaking in my boots."

"Don't tell me I didn't give you fair warning..."

A not so manly sound pierced the air and Sam flailed, trying to get away from his brother's crawling fingers.

"You were saying, Sammy?"

Dean stopped playing around. He pushed a wet lock behind Sam's ear and urged.

"Come on babe, spit it out."

Sam nodded. He let out a soft sigh and asked, "Why did you say no, before?"

Dean looked at the bubbling water. He felt like a mad bull had just been let loose in their china shop, and he hoped the conversation that ensued wouldn't set them back. They had always shied away from that topic but it was obvious that this last, dusty old skeleton needed to be kicked out of their closet too.

"I didn't even think you meant it, Sammy."

"I thought I made my intentions pretty clear."

"You were drunk. People do crazy stuff when they're drunk, especially those who can't handle their liquor."

"Alcohol only gave me the courage I lacked when I was sober."

"Sam…"

"There I was, dying for it, and…" Sam curled his fists, reliving the rage and the feeling of betrayal. "I was so jealous I couldn't see straight."

Even now, Dean could hear the hurt that had never really gone away.

"Sammy, how was I supposed to know? I didn't do it to hurt you."

Dean leaned his head back on the edge, looked up to the sky and asked, "Did you notice anything about him?"

Sam shrugged.

"What, that he was a two bit hooker?"

Dean flinched at the bitterness in Sam's voice. He had sworn his brother would never know what he had done. But that was before everything changed.

.

"He was thin, tall; he had dark, longish hair. That's where the resemblance stopped… so I made sure I didn't have to look at his face."

Shocked, Sam looked at his brother as he kept talking.

"Made it easier to pretend."

With a self-deprecating snort Dean recalled. "He punched me after I cried out your name."

"Dean…"

"See, I never paid attention when he told me his. It was never about him." Sam slid a hand over Dean's arm as he continued. "I'm not proud of what I did. I used him, 'cause he kinda reminded me of you."

Dean shook his head; it had been a bad idea all around. "It was a one-time thing. Didn't do it again. It didn't give me relief I was looking for, and it drove you to the bottle."

"I don't understand. If you wanted me, I was right there."

Dean looked at Sam, with something akin to anger in his eyes. "And what kind of man would have taken advantage of his _baby _brother's trust?"

"Don't say it like it would have been something ugly. It's not like I was thirteen or anything!"

"Maybe, but let's review the facts, shall we? Back then you had never dated anyone seriously; because of the kind of life we lived, we were closer than most siblings; you idolized me…"

"I was in love with you. And that hasn't changed. And after that I was so embarrassed I ran away as soon as I could and did my best to just… disappear."

"If it's any consolation, you were very hard to resist. I was lucky you passed out when you did."

He remembered the ache, the longing; how much it hurt, having to push Sam away when every fiber of his being screamed for him.

He looked at Sam with a smile of derision. "You know Sammy, I've been shot, stabbed, sliced, burnt, you name it, I can handle it. It seems that none of it was as hard as finding the strength to tell you no when you were rubbing up against me."

Sam slid a hand up Dean's thigh and he nuzzled his neck. "If I rub up against you now will you tell me no?"

Dean smiled.

"Take me upstairs and fuck me."

Dean laughed softly, marveling at how big a tease his little brother could be. Then he noticed Sam wasn't kidding and his smile disappeared.

"What's wrong, Dean?"

"Maybe we went a little fast with the whole…"

"Are you kidding me? You sleep with girls you've known for fifteen minutes!"

"They don't mean anything to me!"

Sam sighed and his demeanor softened. "Dean, don't you think we're past the getting to know each other stage?

"There's no going back after something like that, Sam."

"If you haven't noticed by now, I'm pretty comfortable with not going back. It seems like you're the one who has a problem with it and is looking for yet another excuse!"

Dean banged the back of his head over the edge of the tub, disheartened. It was official: 'talking', only worked in his favor in small doses. How the hell had he managed to get himself so dangerously close to a fight, in a friggin' hot tub, with a half-naked Sam? He took a minute to gather his thoughts and gave it another try, hoping he could make Sam understand.

"Sammy, I just don't want to screw it up by rushing into it. I'd like for it to…special."

Sam rubbed the temples as if he felt a headache coming on. He couldn't believe he had to talk his horn dog of a brother into having sex. Of all the problems he thought he would have in a relationship with Dean…

He would have been offended if he didn't recognize his brother's desire to protect him and make sure things were as perfect as they could be for him. And he loved him for that but after years of waiting, he was close to losing his mind from sheer frustration.

"We're in the nicest place we've ever been in. We're together, finally. Isn't that special enough?"

Sam searched his brother's features. He could tell Dean was struggling to find the right words to get his point across without creating additional tension, and he felt like a dick for asking too much. He finally had everything that ever mattered to him. He was happy, for the first in… God only knew how long? It was all because of Dean but somehow he couldn't find it in his heart to give his brother the time he obviously needed to adjust to it all.

He slid an arm over his brother's stomach and kissed his shoulder.

"One month. I give you one month, and not a day more…I'm not going to be able to survive more."

Dean laughed, relieved. "I know, I'm just too hot." He kissed Sam and whispered, "Deal. But in the meantime, I never said we couldn't have _any_ fun…"

* * *

Pulling Sam by the wrist Dean dragged him into the room. Sam made a face when he threw their soaked trunks in the empty kitchen sink. Dean smiled and he kept walking. Only his neat freak of a brother could get distracted by his slobby ways when they were both turned on and desperate to throw themselves on the nearest mattress. A confident smile on his face, he took off his robe and tossed it on the dresser. And just as he had expected, Sam was back on track, doing the same and hopping on the bed.

Dean straddled his leg, threaded his fingers through his hair and feasted on his lips as if they hadn't already kissed each other silly in the hot tub. He ran his fingers down his brother's belly, grazed the sensitive skin of his inner thigh and fondled his balls. After giving Sam's lips a teasing lick, he wrapped his fingers around him, making him jump with a sharp intake of breath.

Sam's rigid cock twitched eagerly in Dean's palm as he stroked it, slowly pulling and twisting. Dean licked the shell of his ear and gently blew on it, smiling as Sam shivered. He then gave him a peck on the mouth and crawled down his body.

He stared up at Sam and rubbed his tongue over the ridge of skin on the underside of his cock and around the head. Sam bit his lip and let out a moan. He looked down at his brother. Gold tipped lashes fluttering over darkening green eyes, Dean looked like the embodiment of sin as he licked him all over like a sweet Popsicle. His lush lips closed over the tip of his cock and started sliding down, slowly engulfing him in a wet tunnel of warmth.

Dean wrapped one hand around the base of Sam cock, and the other around his own. His lips now glided easily up and down the saliva coated shaft. His tongue flicked along the underside, drawing louder moans from his brother. He could feel Sam's cock pulsating in his mouth and he sucked harder, making the head pop in and out of his mouth.

He could tell that Sam was losing control: the fingers that were gently petting his head in the beginning now tugged at his roots, and despite his best efforts, Sam could no longer help thrusting a little too deep inside his throat. After one last lick at the leaking slit, he climbed back on top of Sam, aligned their members together and closed a slippery fist around them.

Sam pulled him closer, kissing his lips while Dean jacked them to ecstasy. They convulsed in each other arms, panting each other's name. Sam licked Dean's fingers clean, tasting their shared pleasure, and he wrapped himself around his brother when he brother fell limp against him. They let themselves fall to the side once they had regained their breath. Dean finally got up and got a wet towel to clean them up. He pulled Sam closer.

"Night, baby."

He planted a kiss on his brow and caressed the now dry hair, smiling when Sam purred in his sleep.

_**Ch 5: Sweeter Surrender**_


	11. Ch5 Sweeter Surrender PI RS

**CHAPTER 5: Sweeter Surrender**

**Summary: **The boys have one last night in paradise. And a King size bed. That is all. ;)

**PART I: Room Serviced **

Resting on his side, Dean was enjoying the quiet of the morning. The room was bathed in half- light; everything was peaceful; and before the day had even started, he knew that he was going to enjoy every minute of it. The thought of staying there with Sam forever briefly crossed his mind. When this preposterous idea failed to pull even a snicker out of him, Dean paused, surprised at himself. His eyes widened as he made the startling discovery: he was happy.

_Forever…_ He had never used this word in relation to himself before. Its poetic sense and the hopefulness it carried were lost on men like him: freaks doomed to a life in the shadows, hunters promised to an early grave. As for happiness, it was a state of being he had never wasted any time longing for. He was a realist, and his wishes were simple: less pain, less evil and less heartache was all he asked to make life bearable. Happiness was the elusive dream he wasn't meant to catch. Or so he thought, until his little brother gathered the strength to give him another kiss, one that couldn't be blamed on too many beers and the jealous tantrum of a kid afraid of being replaced.

A sleepy moan pulled Dean from his thoughts. He felt an arm tighten around his waist and something hard against his butt cheek. He grinned. When Sam had done that the morning before, he had bolted out of bed and into a cold shower. This time, he rolled over and pulled his little brother close for a kiss, a much nicer way to wake him up than spanking him with a pillow. He held the sleep-warm body in his arms until a knock on the door forced him to let go.

As he walked by the bed with their morning feast, Dean took a moment to remind himself why he had to wait a while longer, when the sight of a naked Sam, barely covered by soft sheets, tempted him to slide back under the covers and spend the entire day there.

"Come on, Babe, get up!" he said. Before he changed his mind...

* * *

They were on their way back from the sailing excursion Sam had booked the day before when Dean saw an opportunity to set his plan in motion. He needed time alone and he had found the perfect ploy to get rid of Sam without awaking his suspicions. Making sure to appear as casual as he could, Dean offered, "So, I drop you off at the bookshop now?"

"Yeah… Wait, drop me off?"

Dean shrugged. "You know how you get around books. You'll want to stay there all day; I'll get bored, try to entertain myself; you'll tell me to go play somewhere else... "

Sam tilted his head in agreement.

"So what are you going to do?"

"I'm gonna go check out the music store."

"Alright then."

Two hours after leaving Sam at the bookshop, Dean was back to pick him up. His little expedition had been successful and he was eager to go back to their suite. Unfortunately for him, his brother had other plans.

* * *

Sam flipped through the brochure, for the hundredth time.

"We should go there next. It's on the must-sees list".

He looked at the man at the wheel. It was clear that Dean no longer shared his excitement. Trying to revive his brother's interest, he added, "Hey, did I mention there is a casino on the list?"

Dean looked unaffected.

"Oh, come on Dean…"

Dean repressed a sigh at the sight of the puppy dog eyes. Under the pretext that it was their "last chance", Sam was running them all over town, making sure no tourist trap went unexplored.

Dean was all for doing the tourist thing, especially if he could squeeze a poker game and some quick cash out of the deal. Unfortunately, casino or no, it looked like completing Sam's 'list' was going to take hours; and the only thing Dean could think about was how desperately he wanted to go back to their suite so they could…

"Dean?"

"Okay!"

He was rewarded with an enthusiastic smile after he blurted out his agreement. So he quietly followed Sam's directions and drove, hoping it would all be over before night-time.

* * *

It was past 9 when they finally walked into the _Blue Island_. Built on the lake, it was the town's landmark eatery and the last item on Sam's list.

Dean handed the guest card with his and Sam's names on it. It entitled them to a three-course supper at the _Blue Island_ restaurant anytime during their stay. A week earlier, he would have been slightly ticked off by the expression he recognized in the hostess' eyes. He never understood why random people thought he and Sam were a couple before. But now that he was no longer in denial, he realized that they always stood too close, stared too long, and generally, interacted in a way that made people assume they were lovers.

"Welcome, gentlemen. We have a beautiful table for you; in a quiet corner, very romantic; I hope you'll like it."

Dean let out a chuckle. Sam smiled, and he blushed a little. They followed the hostess without saying a word. A week earlier, they would have been tripping over themselves to explain that they were brothers and nothing more.

They were escorted past the indoor dining room to the terrace. Outside, the sound of waves rustling gently under their feet and the candlelit tables separated by wooden screens set the tone for an intimate evening. When an uptight waiter with a heavy French accent appeared at their table, Dean feared they had landed in one of those dreaded 'snobby rich folk' places where dishes looked like fancy art projects the size of hard boiled eggs and tasted like dirt. But the meal was part of their room package and he wasn't one to turn down food without giving it a try, so he took the special menu card without making any snide remarks.

His doubts vanished as soon as the entrées were served. The salty puff pastries stuffed with cheese and ham the waiter called _feuilletés_ were as small as he expected, but they were also crunchy little bites of heaven; and Sam didn't seem to have any complaints about his order of cow food, or _Niçoise_ salad as he insisted on calling it. The main dishes were just as appetizing. Sam chose a pave of salmon with veggies and lemon sauce and Dean went for a juicy steak with Cognac peppercorn sauce and fries. For dessert, Dean chose a _Tarte Tatin_: a French upside-down pie with caramelized apples, and Sam chose a _Crème Brûlée_ flambéed at the table.

After an amazing meal, Dean was in good spirits and looking forward to finally heading home. He waited for Sam to come back from the men's room to leave the tip on the table.

"Would you gentlemen like some tea, coffee…?"

"No thanks!"

"Herbal tea, please."

They answered in chorus to the waiter who popped at their table right on cue. Dean was getting up from his chair, but Sam looked like he could stay in his for two more hours. So he sat back down, remembering that of course, Sammy would want some hot water with dead flower petals and dried grass in it; he loved that stuff.

He leaned back in his chair and exhorted himself to patience while Sam drank, way too slowly for his liking. Resisting the urge to check his watch after a while, he started doing calculations in his head to distract himself. How long it would take: for Sam to drink his brew, for them to get the hell out of there, drive home, walk up to their room…

"We should take a walk," Sam suggested after taking his last sip.

"A walk?"

Dean rubbed his forehead with his palm, refusing to believe his ears.

Sam nodded, toying with his empty cup.

"Yeah... Seems nice around here."

Sam looked at his brother as he was closing his eyes with a sigh. He bit the inside of his mouth. It was painfully obvious that Dean was getting sick of all the sightseeing. And Sam could understand, but he still needed to stretch the evening out some. Because more than ever after spending hours locked in this bubble looking at Dean and thinking that he was the tastiest meal on the menu, Sam longed to make this night, their last in Epiphany, something more than what his brother was ready for. So he made sure they spent some more time outside, where they were surrounded by people. And when he got tired of wandering around in circles, he decided it was finally safe to go home.

* * *

Sam's steps were heavy as he followed Dean inside their room. He quickly stripped down to his underwear and stumbled into bed with a yawn of relief.

"Oh no, you don't."

Dean yanked the covers off and he grabbed his brother by the wrist.

"What?" Sam mumbled with his eyes closed.

Dean pulled him up on his feet and led him to the bathroom.

"Deaan, I'm tired," Sam whined.

"Take a shower with me."

"I said I'm tired. And it's late…"

Dean turned a deaf ear to Sam's protests. He undressed them both, turned on the faucet and pushed his brother under the shower jet.

"Oww! Do I stink or something?"

"No, you don't. Now stop whining."

Unfazed by Sam's resentful stare, Dean reached behind him to grab a tiny bottle of bath gel.

"J-j-jerk" Sam yawned angrily.

Dean chuckled at the insult and he started rubbing slick hands all over Sam's skin. After waiting what seemed like an eternity, he would have liked nothing better than to skip this impromptu shower. But it was the best solution he had found to wake Sam up. His first idea had been to whack the boy upside the head. It was quicker; but man would it have ruined the mood…

After a few minutes, Sam peeled himself off the wall. Even if he had to admit that it felt nice, he was disappointed to find himself wide awake after all his efforts. But it looked like sleeping was not going to be an option, so he told Dean he would wait for him in the room and he stepped out of the shower and away from his brother's wandering hands.

He was sitting on the bed when Dean came out a minute later. He watched as he silently pulled the curtains close and turned the lights off, only leaving his bedside lamp on. There was a strange tension in the air and Sam began to wonder whether he had forgotten some important plan they made for the night. Then he realized something.

"Hey man, I'm sorry," he said. "I never asked if you felt like doing something else today. But I'm awake now. And from now on, it's whatever you want to do."

Still not saying anything, Dean pulled a something from the inside pocket of his leather jacket. He crawled next to Sam, pushed him down on the bed and captured his lips in a burning kiss. Sam turned away.

"Dean…" he pleaded. "Please…"_ Not now._

Dean pulled back, looking puzzled.

"I hope you mean, please yes. 'Cause all I've been thinking about since this morning…" ―he bit his bottom lip and eyed Sam with a lecherous glint― "…is how bad I want to make love to you."

"What?" Sam blinked. "But I thought..."

Dean nipped at Sam's lower lip, this time encountering no resistance.

"I guess you're just too hot," he teased.

Then he stepped back to give Sam some space and he offered, "Unless you'd rather go to sleep, I know how tired you are…"

Sam pinched his lips. He cocked his head, jaw tight and eyes squinted in annoyance. Dean smiled at the mild bitch face. God help him, he was absolutely crazy about that moody little brat.

"Sammy, I love you."

He said it simply. With none of the seduction or mischief he usually hid the emotions that made him feel vulnerable behind. He pressed their foreheads together and allowed the moment to pass as a speechless Sam soaked up the words he had felt all his life but probably thought he'd never hear. He waited in silence until Sam decided to confess in a shaky whisper, "You've been driving me crazy… with the waiting."

Dean's lustful smile was back in full force when he replied, "Let me make it up to you then…"

He ran his knuckles along the smooth jaw line, down the arc of the neck, and spread his palm over the bare chest and abs as reverently as if he was touching the most precious work of art. He helped Sam out of his pants and dropped the towel that was covering his lower half.

Sam wound his arms around his neck and pulled him into him. They moaned when their cocks slid against each other, trapped between their stomachs. Their mouths met, hungry and hot, locking in passionate kisses while their hands roamed over each other's bodies, stroking smooth skin and squeezing into hard muscle. It seemed like they had waited for this moment all their lives; and each clung to the other, old hurts and past regrets forgotten as they surrendered to a destiny that had always meant for them to be one.

Dean slowly pulled away from his brother's mouth. He tangled a hand in the soft dark hair and stared into the beautiful, slightly tilted hazel eyes. The thought that Sam was all his made his head spin. He lowered his head and sucked a bruise into his neck, making sure to leave his mark on the creamy flesh before moving downward to toy with one nipple, then the other, worrying the stiff buds until he could make Sam tremble simply by breathing on them.

He moved lower, kissing and licking a path down Sam's stomach to his thickening cock. He worked his tongue in wet, lazy circles around the tip, flicked it over the weeping slit and wrapped his lips around the swollen head, gently sucking on it before sinking it into his mouth.

Sam sucked his breath in, his hips twisting under the caress. He watched Dean's lips travel up and down his length, swallowing a little more of him each time. His vision blurred when he felt a hand slid between his butt cheeks.

Dean started teasing the taut ring of muscles by pressing gentle circles around it with the pad of his finger. He let the thick member slowly glide out of his mouth. It slapped wetly against Sam's stomach and he swiped his tongue over the thick vein on the underside, sucking hard on the head and enjoying the sounds falling of Sam's mouth as he did. He licked his way back down, rolling his tongue around each testicle before sliding it over the tiny opening.

"Dean!"

Dean ignored his brother's sudden bout of shyness. He placed his hands behind Sam's knees, pushed his legs back and spread him wide while he swirled his tongue over the small hole.

Sam let out a broken moan, torn between shame and want; but Dean's insisting tongue made it impossible to think and he finally whimpered his surrender, his face catching on fire when his treacherous hips swayed forward.

Dean pushed his tongue further, breaching the puckered opening. His hands slid down and he gripped his brother's hips to pull him even closer. Sam was his; every inch of him. Secrets belonged to a past of missed chances and there was no room for them where they were going. His thumbs spread the firm cheeks and he started thrusting his tongue in and out, pushing wetness inside the virgin passage as he explored its hidden depths.

His eyes glazing over, Sam threw his arms over his head to brace himself against the headboard. He was drowning in this new, devastating pleasure, babbling incoherently as his muscles quivered around the skillful tongue.

Sensing his brother was ready for more, Dean fumbled around for the small bottle he had placed on the bed. He popped the cap open and poured the translucent liquid on his fingers. Then, flicking his thumb teasingly over the slick tip of Sam's cock, he pushed a thickly lubed finger in his hole.

He kissed his brother's lower belly, tickled his navel with his tongue and nibbled his way up to his face, all the while moving his finger inside of him. Spellbound, he gazed at the flushed cheeks and parted lips. Sam's expression was one of pure bliss; and Dean watched as it contorted with pleasure when he hooked his finger to rub the sensitive gland tucked inside the narrow walls.

"God, you're beautiful," he breathed.

He brushed his lips over the smooth skin of Sam's exposed throat and slowly pulled his finger out. He smiled at the small moan of protest and inserted two fingers, moving them around to stretch the muscles until he could fit a third finger in.

Sam started writhing under the probing fingers. He was lost in the mind blowing sensations his brother was arousing in him and aching for release. He tried to relieve some of the pressure and he groaned in frustration when his hand was pushed away.

"I got you, Sammy."

Dean slithered down his brother's body. He grasped the rock solid cock in his hand and moved his fist hard and fast, twisting it around the tip until Sam erupted, spraying his lips and filling his open mouth with hot come.

Sam's limbs felt like jelly. Shivers raced through his body as the wet tongue curled around him looking for every last drop. He ran trembling fingers through his brother's hair and pulled him up. Then he squeezed some lube into his palm and spread it all over Dean's cock.

"Come on," he whispered, spreading his legs in invitation.

Dean rubbed the tip of his cock over the glistening slit and he pushed himself in, past the first ring of muscle. The long fingers that were trailing over his chest suddenly clawed at his skin and he stopped, leaned closer, and surrounded his little brother with his arms. He brushed his mouth against the shell of Sam's ear, whispering sweet nothings and encouragements until he felt him open up again.

He thrust a little deeper and caught Sam's lips in a soul-melting kiss, tangling their tongues in a slow and endless dance until Sam wrapped his arms around him, moaning softly, distracted from the burn in his insides. With one last thrust, he buried himself balls deep inside Sam's body. He swallowed the small cry that tore from his brother's throat in a kiss and he stroked the dark locks in silent apology. He gave Sam a moment to adjust to the intrusion and he started moving again, rotating his hips in slow circles.

Sam moaned as warmth began to spread through his body. After the initial shock, it felt wonderful; the pain quickly faded away, leaving him submerged in pleasure. The teasing circles turned into short thrusts that sent little vibrations throughout his body. Biting his lips, he started thrusting back, wanting more of this feeling, more of Dean.

Dean shoved into him with a powerful thrust and he started fucking him with deep, long strokes. Sam locked his legs around his waist and they started rocking against each other, muffling each other moans with desperate kisses, consumed by this insane pleasure neither had experienced with another before.

Being together like this felt like coming to the home they never knew they had. It was like finding the place where they fit perfectly in the world, and finally feeling whole, safe, and free, for a moment in time that was theirs only. Sam held tight to his brother. Dean had been his first love and the only true one. He had always taken care of him, given him everything, just as he was doing now, and Sam loved him so much it hurt sometimes.

His hand clutched the older man's shoulder and he tried to keep from screaming while his brother pounded years of frustrated lust into his willing body. Dean was fucking him harder, hitting that sweet spot that made Sam see stars, and taking him to new heights of pleasure with each thrust. It felt amazing, and Sam was getting close to the edge when Dean suddenly changed the pace.

He started withdrawing his cock slowly, inch by inch until only the head remained inside and he drove it hard into Sam's body. He did it again and again, pulling almost all the way out, and plunging back in, enjoying the sensations that swirled in his lower belly and the way Sam's face twisted in pleasure every time he slammed forward.

Sam arched his back and his head rolled on the pillow. He pinched the base of his cock to contain the rush of pleasure that was threatening to engulf him. _So good_. He couldn't take it anymore, but he didn't want it to stop just yet. He whimpered as his brother pulled out of him once more, this time dragging the moment out as long as he could, waiting until they were both about to lose their minds before shoving himself back in with a moan.

Sam let out a sharp gasp. His eyes rolled in the back of his head and he closed his fist around his cock.

"Oh God, Dean, fuck me!" he begged.

Dean began moving again, hips pumping back and forth, and after just a few thrusts, a surge of heat tore through their bodies. He came in violent spasms, grunting as he flooded the tight tunnel that gripped him with hot seed, while Sam moaned his name in ecstasy, as streams after streams of come squirted out of his cock to land onto their chests in a mess of sticky ribbons.

They kissed deeply, lying in a tangle of limbs. Sam tried to caress his lover's cheek but his hand fell limply on the pillow. He was spent, and could barely keep his eyes open. He used his last strengths to hook his ankle around Dean's calf so he would keep him inside of him a little longer.

Dean covered Sam's hand with his. He kissed his brother's neck, sending goose bumps all over Sam's overheated skin, and rested his head in the curve of his shoulder. They remained that way, wrapped around each other in the sudden silence, until he heard a slurred whisper.

"Lov' you Dean..."

He opened his mouth to answer, but he realized that Sam had already fallen asleep. So he carefully slipped out of his body, rolled to the side and gathered him in his arms. He brushed the damp hair away from Sam's face and looked at him: with the little smile ghosting over his lips, the younger Winchester was the picture of peace and contentment. Dean pressed a kiss to his cheek. He pulled Sam closer to his chest and fell asleep almost immediately.

* * *

Sam opened his eyes.

"Mmmm…"

The fingers that were stroking the small of his back curled around his waist. Lips he would now recognize blindfolded brushed the back of his shoulder.

"Hey, Dean."

Sam turned on his back and he stretched his body. Dean was sitting on the bed wearing only his jeans. He slid his hand over Sam's stomach and asked, "You sleep okay?"

Sam nodded with a coy dimpled smile. He ran his fingers through his hair with the slow grace of a sated cat and purred, "You wore me out, big brother..."

Dean didn't respond with the cocky grin Sam expected.

"About that… Are you..?" Dean rubbed the back of his neck. "You know…"

Laughing softly, Sam rolled his eyes. There weren't many things that made his brother uncomfortable ―he had proven it the night before― but the thought that Little Sammy could be in any pain always bothered Dean immensely.

"You know, you're kinda cute when you get like this," Sam teased.

"Not funny Sam. Seriously."

Sam lowered his eyes, foolishly hoping his brother wouldn't notice the blush that was creeping up his neck. So he was a little sore… it was to be expected: they had gone at it like horny rabbits on crack, and Dean wasn't exactly built to fit in small spaces. But Sam had no intentions of telling him that. First, his ego was inflated enough; second, he was so overprotective he might use it as a reason to bring the thirty-day deal back on the table. And Sam was having none of it. His body still tingled at the memory of the night's pleasures and he couldn't wait to experience them again.

"I'm fine, Dean," he reassured. "I'm feeling great."

He covered the hand that was resting on his middle with his and asked, "You never did tell me yesterday. Why did you change your mind?"

"I didn't."

"But you said…"

"I said I wanted it to be special. You said one month. I only needed a few hours to buy some lube."

Sam frowned. Then he smiled and he punched Dean in the shoulder.

"I can't believe you. So yesterday in the hot tub..?"

"I simply didn't correct you. Trust me, I was never waiting that long. I just wanted to make sure it wouldn't be unpleasant for you."

"We could have phoned the kitchen, asked for olive oil; or better yet kept the butter from breakfast."

"See that right there, is exactly why I didn't tell you anything!"

Sam laughed goodheartedly.

"So that's why you dumped me at the library."

"Hey! I _dropped_ _you off_ at the library 'cause you like to read… and, because I needed to find a sex shop to buy some heavy duty slip and slide. After that man, it was open season; couldn't wait to get you back in here."

"And I doing everything to make sure we wouldn't start anything you were not willing to finish."

"Well, aren't you glad I got my way?" Dean gave him a peck on the mouth and he asked, "So what do you want to do today?"

Sam stretched his limbs again. He was feeling unapologetically, justifiably, lazy.

"Hang out, do a little bit of reading; I've had my eye on that hammock since we got here.

"Sounds good to me."

"And get some food at some point."

"I'll go heat up breakfast."

"What time is it?"

"Past 10. I didn't want to wake you; because I'm awesome like that."

Sam watched his brother walk toward the other room.

"Hey Dean, can we have breakfast in bed?"

"Umm, is it because you can't walk to the patio?" Dean asked, ever the smart mouth. "I could carry you on my back like I used to…"

"Bring me breakfast here, Jerk!"

Dean jumped when a pillow landed on the back of his head. He tossed it back, a smile stretching his lips: Sammy was so easy, teasing him never got old.

"Jeez Bitch-Flakes," Dean joked, "so much for morning after bliss."

He waited until he was out of sight to add, "Bossy little bottom."

Sam pressed the pillow against his chest, biting back a laugh. He was the boss alright, and they both knew it! Because no matter how much Dean bitched and how long he stalled, he always gave in to his every demand. And just to test the theory he yelled, "And bring me some juice first, I'm thirsty!"

_**Part II – Back In The Saddle**_


	12. Ch5 Sweeter Surrender PII BITS

**CHAPTER 5: Sweeter Surrender**

**Summary:** Playtime is over. Or is it..? The boys go back to the real world.

**PART II: Back In The Saddle**

Sam gave a last glance at the beautiful house by the lake. Memories of chocolate covered strawberries, breakfasts on the patio, walks by the marina and hot nights in tangled sheets flashed before his eyes. He remembered his less than enthusiastic reaction when Dean first told him they were staying there for a few days. He would have jumped for joy if he only knew how things were going to turn out.

"What cha thinkin', Sammy?"

Sam looked at his brother.

"I'm happy." he replied simply.

He pressed his hand on Dean's thigh, offered a wide smile, and went back to looking out the window, taking in the last sights of Epiphany before the landscape became monotonous.

They decided to head east. Sam had found a hunt in John's journal: an old theater in a town three states over where at more than thirty people had died under mysterious circumstances over the years. Every thirteen years a rash of unexplained accidents would claim the lives of a dozen people on a thirtieth of July. The thirteen-year mark was right around the corner and they had about two weeks to figure out was going on and find a way put a stop to it.

They drove for seven hours and they found a little town to spend the night. They stopped at a minimart to buy a small bag of groceries, snacks, drinks and newspapers before checking into a motel. Without needing to talk about it, they dumped their bags on the bed closest to the door. Sam went to take a shower while Dean scanned the papers, and they switched places.

When Dean came out of the bathroom, the laptop was sitting open on the table. He peered down at the notes scribbled on Sam's notebook: clearly, Sammy had switched back to Wonder Geek mode. He joined his brother in the kitchenette. Sam was busy washing up plates and wiping down the counter.

"Need some help there Martha?" Dean asked.

Sam glared at him in a token effort at disapproval then he said, "I've been researching the story you circled in the paper."

"Think it might be our kind of case?"

"Four men; young and seemingly healthy, all dropping dead in front of the same statue in the interval of six months? You bet."

Sam started taking things out of the fridge to put them on the clean counter.

"Did you notice they all sort of looked alike?" Dean asked, his eyes lingering on Sam's butt when he bent down to grab the bag of vegetables.

"Uh, yeah: short dark hair, similar build… And on the pictures I found online, all four had grey eyes. Whatever's doing this has a type".

"My money's on the creepy rock. Find anything?"

Sam started opening packages, slicing tomatoes, tearing lettuce.

"From what I gathered, it was sculpted more than a century ago by an artist called Theodore Burch in homage to his deceased wife."

"I suppose," Dean interrupted, "he is our prototype: short dark hair, grey eyes…"

"I can't tell the eye color on the black and white pictures but he definitely bears a resemblance to the victims. He was also the first person to be found dead next to statue."

"Maybe Theo killed his better half and she came back to gank him."

"He was accused of her murder. I found some information about the trial."

"That's my boy. So why did he do it?"

Sam tore the single serve pouches of condiments open. He squirted mayo over four slices of white bread for Dean and mustard over two slices for himself.

"Margaret Burch," he explained, "was described as a stunning beauty. And it seemed men were obsessed with her. They fought over her, destroyed their households; some even went bankrupt buying her gifts. Two guys reportedly committed suicide, leaving a note with her name on it. She was even cited as the motive behind a couple of murders, the most shocking being the son who murdered his father when he discovered they were sharing the same mistress."

"Crap! Okay so, the husband kills her because he discovers he married a scandalous floozy?"

"They were married for a few years so I'm guessing he chose to look away most of the time."

"What changed?"

"She got pregnant. Rumor was he wasn't the father. Witnesses overheard an argument between the couple in Theodore's shop the day she died. Margaret's family accused him of crushing her skull with his hammer."

"How the hell did he escape going to prison?"

Sam piled cheese and ham on the slices of bread.

"He was a member of one of the richest and most prominent family in town. And it didn't hurt that so many people hated Margaret Burch. Half the town was convinced that she was a witch who casted evil spells on men and pushed them to their deaths."

"Well, she sure left a sloppy trail of bodies in her wake. Maybe she drew her witchy mind control powers from the blood she spilled."

"Yeah, that's also what I think. Anyway, Theodore Burch had the best lawyer money could buy and a story many chose to accept as the truth."

"Which was?"

"They were arguing in his shop. The pregnant lady had a dizzy spell. She collapsed, conveniently cracking her head open against some sculpture as she went down. The jury ruled it an accident. He walked."

"Not far enough apparently. Witches man", Dean shuddered, "even dead they're a pain in the ass. So we gotta dig old Maggie up, or whatever she left behind."

"Yeah."

"I wonder how he got the best of her in the end. Clearly he wasn't immune to her powers."

Sam shrugged.

"We've seen it before, witches who stop using their powers when they're pregnant. Maybe she couldn't control him the way she usually did."

"Hmm. Makes sense… So she's been around for a while now. Did you find other deaths related to her?"

"She was hidden in the manor of a private collector all this time."

"The things rich people buy with their money... So he got spooked and he sold her?"

"Died. Of old age, he didn't fit the profile. And he donated his entire art collection to the town."

"And if Margaret is as pretty a statue as she was a human, someone out there thought she should be exposed for the world to see…"

"And now, any guy who walks past her and has the misfortune of looking like her husband is dead meat."

"We gotta smoke the homicidal stone bride!"

Sam handed Dean a beer and they clinked their bottles together. With a smile, he tore the bag of potato chips open, amused at the way his brother perked up at the mere thought of setting something on fire.

Dean put his beer down. Stroking the neck of the sweaty bottle, he let his eyes wander over Sam: long legs, slim hips, broad back, strong arms, deft fingers playing with food…Mmm…

"Sammy?" Dean's voice dropped an octave. "It turns me on to watch you cook."

He made a slurping noise that earned him a disgusted grimace.

"You haven't cooked for me since…"

"Before Stanford. Not that I'd call throwing a sandwich together cooking."

Stanford. The word that used to fill the air with tension around them came and went without any uneasiness. They had settled their issues about the 'dark' era and no topic was off limits anymore.

"Is there anything missing..?"

Sam surveyed the kitchen counter: the plates were full, the drinks opened; dessert was in the microwave, ready to be heated when Dean would start clamoring for pie, and a nice serving of low-fat yogurt awaited Sam in the fridge. Behind him, a voice added.

"You on my lap?"

Sam rolled his eyes. He picked up the two plates, leaving Dean to carry the beers and the bowl of chips. As he walked over to the couch, a smile spread across his face. His big brother was as annoying as ever, and for once it was a good thing. Sam had feared things would get awkward between them now that they were out of fantasyland and back to reality. He was glad to see he had worried needlessly.

They sat in front of the TV and planned the following day while they ate. They would wake up around eight, pack some sandwiches for the road and drive five hours to pick up brand new credit cards in their nearest post office box. It would take four more hours to reach their next destination. The salt-and-burn of Maggie Burch should be completed in a maximum of four days, which would leave them ample time to investigate the old theater and find a way to break the curse before the fateful day.

* * *

It used to make Dean feel guilty; the way they ended up sitting too close when no one was watching. It had started innocently enough, with Sam falling asleep on Dean's shoulder in front of some Van Damme flick, and Dean not shoving him off like he should have. Then Sam had woken up in the middle of the movie, stretching and purring like some big stupid cat, and instead of jumping far away once he had opened his eyes and realized where he had landed, he had snuggled closer and put Dean's arm around him as if it was the most normal thing to do.

Dean had felt something stir in his heart. John always said that Winchesters were soldiers; they had to be tough, and suck it up! But he didn't want Sammy to grow up the way he had. So much had robbed from his little brother already. What was the harm in giving him a bit of affection? In their peculiar lives, all they really had was each other, so he never pushed Sam away when he curled at his side in search of warmth and love, even if he hated himself for the less than brotherly thoughts that crossed his mind.

He had once promised himself he would take those thoughts to the grave; but it was hard to remember why he had been so afraid then, when Sam looked at him the way he did right now: like Dean was good enough, like he was special, like he was everything Sam had ever dreamed of.

"Sam, blink or something."

A smile crept up the corners of Sam's mouth. He found his brother's obvious discomfort at being looked at endearing; especially given the fact that people stared at Dean all the time. But it wasn't the lustful glances from strangers dying to get into his pants or the grateful looks from civilians to a hero they could never thank enough that bothered Dean. It was the eyes that saw too deep into his wrecked soul and still loved everything in there that he himself couldn't.

"I wish you could see yourself through my eyes," Sam whispered.

"I'm sure the view's pretty nice from there," Dean joked with a cocky smile, pretending not to understand what Sam really meant.

"You have no idea," Sam answered; and when Dean nervously licked his bottom lip, he knew his brother knew exactly what he was referring to.

He leaned close, irresistibly drawn to the plump shiny lip. Dean cupped the back of his head and they started kissing. They pulled each other shirts off and kissed some more, tongues twisting inside moist warmth and hands travelling over naked skin, until Sam pulled away.

"Give me a sec," he asked, panting slightly.

Dean nodded. He laid his head against the couch and waited. Moments later, Sam reappeared in front of him and he watched as his brother positioned himself between his legs, slipped out of his jeans and sank to his knees.

Sam ran his hands over the strong thighs and he pressed one palm over the swollen bulge. He brushed his lips over the skin of Dean's lower abdomen, feeling the hard muscles contract under his touch, and popped Dean's jeans open to release his straining cock.

"Sam…"

Sam tugged on his brother's jeans. He motioned for him to lift his hips and he pulled the denim all the way down.

"You said something about wanting me on your lap..." he reminded with a sly smile.

He wetted his lips, his mouth practically watering as he slid his fingers up and down Dean's cock. He dipped his head and dragged soft puckered lips across the hot flesh. His tongue followed, licking from root to tip, twirling around the head and sliding down the shaft, and back up again, until he was satisfied that no inch was left untouched.

Dean shivered, his fingers clawing the worn-out fabric of cheap couch. Sam was killing him; slowly.

"Fuck…"

Sam finally closed his mouth around the erect member. He pushed it inside his throat as far as it would go before pulling it out gently to take a breath. He repeated the motion, taking it deeper and sucking harder as he got comfortable. He loved the way it came alive and twitched under his caress; and he bobbed his head up and down while Dean combed his hair away from his face, sending jolts of pleasure in his lower belly every time he grazed his nape with his fingernails.

His own cock was throbbing. He smeared pre-cum over his shaft and squeezed a little to relieve some of the tension. It was nice, but not exactly what he had in mind, so picked the lube off the floor and climbed on his brother's lap. He drizzled the clear liquid over his hand, arched his back and shoved a finger inside his hole to work himself open.

When he was ready, he wrapped his slippery fingers around Dean's cock, guided it into his opening and he pushed himself down the hard length, stretching his muscles until he was filled with Dean. Waves of pleasure spread through his body and he rolled his hips, moaning at the feel of his brother inside of him, hard, thick, and _so damn addictive…_

He clamped his muscles and started moving faster, grabbing the back of couch for balance. He groaned approvingly when Dean sucked one of his nipples in his mouth, and tossed his head back, soft noises falling from his lips while he rode his brother hard, slamming his body down on his over and over.

Dean dug his fingers into Sam's butt cheeks and he started thrusting his hips upward, grinding up against him and driving his cock hard and fast into his hole. Sam flopped on top of him, relinquishing control, his whole body thrumming as Dean hammered his walls furiously.

Their moans filled the air as their orgasm grew near. Sam slid a hand between their bodies to fist his cock. He cried out in pleasure and his inner muscles clenched around Dean, milking him dry while he shot come all over Dean's stomach.

He gave his brother a kiss, and rested his head on his shoulder. He gently stroked the soft hair at the nape of Dean's neck, and licked the pulse point on his throat, tasting the salt there, tasting life, love, and everything that was good and strong, and his only. Sam smiled at his own possessiveness, then out of nowhere, the thought that he should get up before he got cramps in his legs popped into his head. But then there were those hands, sliding up and down his back, gentle, slow, soothing… and he decided that he could stay right where he was for another minute…or two.

* * *

After he had his little brother tucked in bed, Dean pulled a square box from his duffle and he slid it under Sam's pillow. Sam found it the morning after when he woke up. He rubbed his eyes, opened the box, lifted the content and stared at it in stunned silence for a few seconds before he remembered how to speak.

"You know, you can be pretty romantic for a guy so butch." The tone was teasing, but the slight quiver in his voice betrayed his emotion.

Behind him, Dean winced at the r-word.

"I prefer _velvety smooth_, if you don't mind," he corrected. Then he smacked Sam's ass and suggested, "Now, how about you come thank me in the shower, Bitch?"

Sam turned his head to the side. He watched Dean walk toward the bathroom, naked as a worm, pumping his fist in the air, probably congratulating himself for proving once again that he was the 'awesomest-most-greatest' lover a guy could ask for.

Sam rolled his eyes and shook his head with a smile. He fell back on the pillow, staring at his morning surprise, unable to stop smiling. Then he closed his fist around it, pressed it over his heart and whispered to himself, "Me too, Dean."

He held on to the cold metal for a moment before slipping it back into the box. It was the most meaningful thing anyone had ever given him. And every time he would lie eyes on it, his mind would fill with the memories of moments that were among the happiest of his life. "Velvety smooth" didn't even begin to describe it. He got out of bed and walked into the bathroom, ready to lavish his gratitude upon Dean in the most creative ways his downstairs brain could come up with...

_Epilogue – Yours Forever. Love, D._


	13. Epilogue – Yours Forever Love, D

**HIS PRETTY LIPS, ANOTHER'S LIES**

It's the end of the road! I hope you guys enjoyed it. Thank you for all your wonderful comments. L.C.C.

**Epilogue: **_**Yours Forever. Love, D.**_

Sam glanced through the window. The wind was howling and it was cold outside. However, the cabin he had rented for their latest hunt-free getaway was comfortable and well-heated. It was especially cozy by the fireplace: they had spent their first day lying on the thick rug, roasting their naked buns by the fire, only coming up for air to grab a blanket and something to eat. Since then, Dean had made it a mission to christen every room and corner of the cabin. He had only given up on outdoor sex because he was afraid they would freeze their collective balls off.

Sam closed the fridge. Tomorrow, he was making spaghetti and meatballs. He could already see Dean, hovering around, watching him as he juggled pots and pans, and trying to sneak a sip of the tomato sauce just to get him worked up. For some reason, his brother seemed to enjoy eating his meals just as much as he liked looking at Sam while he was preparing them. Sam cracked a smile. He had long stopped wondering about this strange little fetish of Dean's. After all, it had started with a pie.

"Sam?"

"I'll be a minute, Dean."

Sam waited a couple more seconds to make sure he achieved the perfect melted-but-not-runny consistency he was looking for, before taking the bowl out of the microwave. Always looking for a way to force some healthy food into his brother's stomach, he sprinkled a handful of raspberries on top of the warm chocolate. He looked at the mouth-watering dessert and nodded: it would be perfect to satisfy Dean's sweet tooth without having to deal with the inconvenient crumbs pies left behind.

Sam made his way back to the candlelight bedroom. The sight that welcomed him made his heart stutter and he stood in the doorway, looking at Dean who was blindfolded and tied to the bed with scarves. Sometimes his breath caught when he looked at his brother. He loved him so much, from the millions of things that made him extraordinary to the annoying little quirks he came to miss when they were giving each other the cold shoulder after a fight.

Sam smiled softly. They didn't fight too often; or at least much less than they used to. They had found better use of their fiery tempers than to be at each other's throats; and it was easier to find a middle ground when they were lying in each other's arms, depleted from all the energy they needed to argue.

They worked. They were happy. Sam certainly was, and he did everything in his power to make sure his brother was too.

He walked in the room, placed the bowl on the nightstand, dropped his sweats and kneeled over his lover's naked body. He reached behind Dean's head to make sure the blindfold was still in place.

The silver bracelet he wore on his right wrist caught his eyes as it slid over his skin. He had never taken it off since the day he had found it under his pillow in some no-name motel. He knew the words hidden under the curved plaque at the center by heart. But as he sometimes did when no one was watching, he lifted up the plaque, read the message engraved for his eyes only, and pressed the cold metal back onto his skin.

_Yours forever. Love, D._

His heart swelling with love, he placed a kiss on his brother's temple. He grabbed the bowl on the nightstand and placed it next to him on the bed. He bit into a raspberry, and gently pushed it inside Dean's mouth. Their tongues twirled around the soft fruit for a while, until he pulled away. He fed his brother half a dozen others before dipping his fingers in the soft mount of chocolate. He brushed his fingers over Dean's lips, and sunk them in his mouth, feeling his cock stir as the nimble tongue slid around them. He repeated the little game a few more times, then he leaned forward to give Dean a kiss. It was sticky, messy and sweet, and when he pulled away, Dean sighed happily.

"Mmh… Sammy feeding me something creamy and delicious, while straddling my lap… Tell me this is going where I hope it's going, cowboy…"

Sam couldn't help the smile that formed on his lips.

"Shut up, Dean, you're ruining the mood," he scolded half-heartedly as he dipped his hand in the soft dessert again.

He grazed his chocolate-covered fingers across Dean's nipples and pulled them into his mouth to suck them clean. His hand drifted over firm stomach, and he followed the trail of melted chocolate with his tongue, removing the sticky smears off of his brother's skin while Dean squirmed helplessly on the bed.

"God, I love you, Sammy."

Sam's lips slid down Dean's cock, swallowing him whole. He moaned… There was nothing like it: Dean, deep inside his throat or better yet, his body; stretching him wide as he filled him completely… He reached over the bedside table, knocking over his cell phone and the keys to the cabin to grab the lube. Then he pulled his lips off the mushroom head with a loud, wet noise, freeing his mouth so he could finally reply to his whimpering brother.

"I love you more, Baby…"

La Fin :)


End file.
